


Pride of your Sins

by Insanity_Smiles



Series: Breed the Hatred [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A lot cooler then it sounds i promise, Allura & Lance (Voltron) are Siblings, Altean Prince Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, And also Keith can do it too with fire, BAMF Allura (Voltron), BAMF Lance (Voltron), F/F, F/M, Galran Prince Keith (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance can control water- in a cool way, Lot's of race issues and the like, Lotor (Voltron) Being an Asshole, Lotor and Zarkon are really... not good., M/M, Magical Realism, Not light hearted :), Not with Klance tho I swear, Sassy Pidge | Katie Holt, Slow Burn, There is mention of death and typical war., Unhealthy Relationships, War, klance is endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25613071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insanity_Smiles/pseuds/Insanity_Smiles
Summary: Lance and Keith were soulmates- there was no way around it. Of course, neither knew at first. How could they? They were enemies- on the opposite sides of battlefield slaughtering the others men. So how? How could the universe decide this for them?***Obsession is a dangerous thing. A horrid thing. Something that sickens the weak and preys on the strong. Zarkon prides himself a man with strength, with purpose. Poised with dangerous poison mending his spine- he yearned for the stronger.He felt as if it was his to contain- his to own.His to claim.So when he sees Lance again, after fifty years, his desire inflames the greed rotting his bones. He needs to own, needs to feel and to destroy.A sick, sick man with sick, sick needs is the least of the Princes problems, though.Everyone, after all, is relying on Lance.Everyone....Rated for: Very unhealthy mental thoughts, Blood & gore, Slurs, Extreme Violence, Mental disorders, Graphic Descriptions, Pedophillia, and all things associated with them.
Relationships: Allura & Lance (Voltron), Allura & Shiro (Voltron), Hunk & Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith & Shiro (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron), Lance/Lotor (Voltron), Lance/Zarkon (Voltron), The last two are not healthy
Series: Breed the Hatred [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856575
Comments: 11
Kudos: 128





	1. Chapter 1

**T** he room was silent. 

Two enemies sat in the same place, their voices still and the silence heavy. Tall windows couldn’t hide the sun as it draped across those it belonged to- the ones with the sun’s marks etched on their skins. 

Soft curtains billowed into the room, the doors closed from probable assassins. Walls lined with guards loyal to neither- as this room belonged to none other than a neutral country allowing the peace talks to take place. 

That didn’t change the glares between the warring enemies.

The echo of a large door opening had no one’s head-turning. The oak table between the two couches was like that of the raging sea between their countries. Wild, untamed, beastly. The fear that the sea held was spread from coast to coast, no one but the prince could contain. And the Prince was acting on his brethren, stormy blue eyes never leaving the man in front of him. 

Silence still won as the new arrival sat in the middle of the soft green couch, his white hair blinding in the sun’s grasp. Muted eyes slid from person to person, enemy to enemy, as his advisor sat dutifully on the chair next to him. 

The only light came from the windows, the only sound came from the others in the small castle. They could hear them, however, others could not do the same to those in the room. 

The light draped over them as the whiter haired man spoke, powerful voice demanding attention. 

“Emperor Zarkon, apologies for my late arrival.”

Soft echoes made the large room seem even larger. The man addressed, a large bemoaning man who sat in the middle of his own couch inclined his head, glowing yellow eyes never blinking. 

“No need. You are here now.”

“Of course. Is there anyone else joining us?”

Their voices were stiff, not polite but all the same. It was suffocating. The tall man with ocean eyes, who sat next to the powerful white-haired man, never moved an inch. His gaze was roaming over the Emperor, over the men who sat beside him and meeting violent violet eyes. 

“We are all here, King Alfor,” Zarkon said, voice deep and commanding. 

King Alfor, the one with glowing hair, nodded his consent. “Then shall we proceed with the meeting?”

“Greetings should take place, shouldn’t it,” the man said, not asking. 

Alfor’s face didn’t betray anything, his eyes never leaving the Emperors. “My apologies. Coran?”

The adviser jumped at being called upon, his orange mustache moving a bit as he stroked a thoughtful hand over it. He bowed at the waist, his gaze dancing. “Coran here! King Alfor’s advisor,” he had a strange accent as he spoke. 

He was standing now, respectfully keeping his head bent. “May I introduce you to King Alfor, King of Altea!” He then gestured politely to the young woman sitting to his left, her features the same as her fathers. “And the wonderful Princess Allura,” he said. 

“A pleasure,” she said, gentle with something lined underneath. 

Coran smiled at her, though hidden behind his enormous mustache. “And of course Prince Allance, General of the Altean Army!”

Allance simply nodded, his handsome pinched with disdain. 

Coran gave Allance a similar smile he gave his older sister and sat primarily back down. Silence once again ate at them until a man sitting in a chair similarly as Coran stood. 

He bowed at the waist. “Thank you, Adviroser Coran. I am Thace, the advisor of Emperor Zarkon.”

Gesturing simply, he began, “Lord Lotor,” to the man sitting to his father’s right. “And General of the Army- Akira of the Galran Military.”

All eyes slid to the two enemy Generals, both having seen the war of the other first hand. Slaughtered the other’s men. Two clashing gaze’s met with silence. “And, behind Emperor Zarkon is Leautindent General Shirogane and Leutindint Acxa.”

The man with the scar on his nose offered a polite smile to where he stood behind Akira, and the woman who stood behind Lotor gave no response. 

Silence, then King Alfor spoke. “Greetings to all of you. Now that it’s out of the way, shall we proceed?”

Zarkon’s eyes flashed. “Of course.”

Alfor looked to his daughter, pride in his mannerisms as he placed a warm hand on her shoulder. “It is thanks to my daughter, Allura, that we are here today. She shall be the one to continue the meeting.” 

Emperor Zarkon looked at her with nothing in his gaze. His hands, which were placed neatly on his lap, looked as if they were used to gripping something. As Allance caught on to his movements, he realised that Zarkon was used to his staff. 

A staff that has ended many, many Altean lives. 

“If there are no complaints…” Allura trailed then continued when nobody intervened. “I am thankful that this meeting could take place. A grand thank you has already been said to the Okliari, for housing this peace meeting.” 

Allance and Akira’s eyes have not yet left each other, poison etched into their faces, neither was willing to let the other out of their sight. It was not romantic, it was not desperate, it was war. 

It was survival. 

Allura continued, “To keep it short; I wish to offer a peace treaty with you, Emperor Zarkon, and ease this pointless war. No more bloodshed, no more dead men, and no more fighting. I ask of you to consider.” 

Silence has grown into something familiar with Princess’s Allura words echoing faintly in the room, just as her father has done. She was proper with her speech, well educated and intelligent, and spoke with her head held high and shoulders back. Her spine was straight and her ankles were crossed underneath her modest Altean dress. 

Emperor Zarkon’s face was not warm as he seemed to think her words over. “King Alfor,” he addressed, “ Why did you bring a child?”

King Alfor blinked as his hand slid off his daughter’s shoulder. “What are you saying?”

“This girl has not seen this war, King Alfor. What say does she have?”

The room was starting to get warmer, and not the good kind. The advisors from both sides looked worriedly from side to side. 

Alfor cleared his throat, tempter lining his brows. “All due respect, Emperor Zarkon, but my daughter is fully aware of what has been done to both our lands. She is not oblivious to her people’s suffering.”

Zarkon’s eyes slid to Allance’s. “I must speak how I feel, King Alfor. And how I feel is that your son is better to speak on these matters then a little girl.”

Allura’s jaw jumped as she pursed her lips, holding up a soft hand hiding calluses. “Emperor Zarkon, do not belittle me. Please take my words to heart.”

But Emperor Zarkon no longer gave her his attention. That attention was now on the eldest son, Prince Allance. Who was not expecting the attention on him. Something bitter boiled in his lungs as the eyes of his enemy watched him with slight amusement. 

“Zarkon, I do not have the same patience as my sister or Father. You know this, and you speaking to me shows that you are not interested in a treaty,” he spoke in his low and slightly husked voice from disuse. A small smirk played on his lips as he saw the wide eyes of the people by Zarkon’s side. 

King Alfor side-eyed his son. “Emperor Zarkon, please do not listen to my son. May we take a ten-minute break, then proceed?”

Zarkon waved an uncaring hand as the Altean party moved to leave, their advisor staying put in his chair to show that they were not removing themselves from the actual meeting. 

Allance arose from the couch, making sure his face showed exactly how much respect he showed for the dictator, disgust towards the Emperor showing quite clearly. He followed after his sister and father, glaring over his shoulder before the door slammed in his face. 

The three of them were alone in the small, adjacent room. It housed a simple table with a few chairs, his father already sitting heavily in the closest one. He worked his jaw with a hand as weariness creased his features. 

“What were you thinking, Lance?” Alfor’s voice was soft. 

Lance only shrugged his shoulders, leaning against the wall with his eyes hard. “I told you and ‘Lura before we got here, Father. I was not going to play the political game with them.”

Allura sat next to their father, her soft white hair that reached her hips bellowing with her movement. “It’s not a game, Lance. You should know better than anyone else that you _have_ to be polite at political talks.”

“I don’t care for that!” 

“You should!”

“Lance, Allura, please,” their father said, still weak and having a far off look in his eyes. The siblings eased at once. “Lance, you understand, don’t you?”

Lance nodded, feeling put out. “I know very well, father.”

“Then please don’t provoke them. Please. We need this, Lance. It’s a miracle they even agreed in the first place.” 

And it was. Decades of bloodshed had left both countries weak at all ends. It was gruesome and hatred bubbled between them at every edge. Lance has seen it with his own eyes, how gory and awful it was. And, he wasn’t proud of it, has been the one to partake in it on the field. 

His father looked his age, old and weary with his features pulled into frustration. The war has drained him. Lance frowned, not liking putting his pride on hold, but his father’s eyes begged him. Begged him to understand. 

“I’m sorry, Father. I just-”

“I know, Lance. I know.”

A moment passed with Lance’s bitter heart aching to take out the enemy an oak door away. Allura’s voice broke it, however, with a new light in her tone. “So, is Lance going to continue the meeting?”

“Ugh,” Lance groaned. “ _That_. What right does he have to talk to you like that, anyway?”

Allura opened her mouth just as Alfor shook his head. “Allura, you’ll continue the meeting. You have to.” There was importance shining in his light blue eyes, directed at Allura with understanding. 

She nodded, expression not giving anything away. “Then should I ignore how he looks at Lance?”

Lance sputtered while Alfor let out a long sigh. “Yes. We’ll ignore that and continue with what you planned, Allura. And Lance,” he slid his gaze to him. “You need to be there for Allura. Don’t go against what she’s trying to say or do. Not right now, at least.” 

Allura rolled her eyes, going against how polite she appeared. Lance, however, knew his sister from the moment he was born. His older sister was petty. 

“Alright,” she said, She stood up, modest dress flaring as she clasped her hands in front of her. “I think our ten minutes is up.”

Sombre silence pulsed once more as they filed out of the small room. Allance fell in the back as Allura and Alfor walked side by side, their features giving nothing away as they made their way back towards the enemy. 

Their footfalls were as silent as they could get, gentle padding of light footwear on the old bamboo floor. But the Galra were a primal race, one that excelled in the hunt. All attention was once again on them, plain ire in their gazes. 

Zarkon’s eyes slid to Allance’s form as he sat neatly in his previous spot, his family doing the same beside him. The enemy general’s face had not lost the rage lining the fair skin and thin lips, and instead blankly held the other’s cerulean gaze. 

Allance ignored them. 

Allura politely cleared her throat, doing so as lightly as she could. “We apologise if we have offended you, Emperor Zarkon and his party. That was not our intention.”

The Emperor’s harsh face did not move an inch, nor did his body. His voice was it’s usual deadly vice, curling around the room like a vile snake. “Of course. Is Prince Allance going to be proceeding?”

“No, Emperor Zarkon. I will be,” she said, controlled, and left no room for argument.

He hummed. “Then I wish to end the meeting.”

Cold. Cold, freezing silence breathed down the Alteans' necks. Coran’s eyes were muted as he glanced towards the king, gloved hands having halted in the scroll he was writing on. The feather was weak in his grip as his moustache stopped it’s usual moving. 

“Pardon me,” Alfor spoke. The demure King was no longer, a fierce foe taking the place of the other. King Alfor's narrowed eyes were alight with the rage of a storm. 

Zarkon, however, only narrowed his eyes back. “As I said, King Alfor. I do not wish to speak with a child on an adult’s matters.” 

“Prince Allance is younger than Princess Allura, by two years. Emperor Zarkon, you are aware of this.” The King’s voice held power. The Olkarion guards that lined the sunset walls were tense as the air grew thick. 

“I’m aware. He has also led the battle against my army, he has far more experience than the Princess.”

Nobody spoke. The ice in the chasm rivalled the sun peeking through the windows. The men on Zarkon’s side were calm, calm like the sea they had no right to own or contain. Tame was not what the sea was, nor would ever be. 

Princess Allura tried to call for peace, her eyes never revealing the panic she surely felt. “Emperor Zarkon-”

“I said my terms. They were quite simple. I only wished this meeting would be herded by the great Altean General, that is all,” he said, interrupting Allura. The young woman finally broke her gentle features with a glare. Pits of hell fell in her bright blue eyes, the same as her fathers, and her dark skin flushed with righteous anger. 

The peace talk was starting to delve into the dangerous rapids, the waters uneven and spiteful as the guards started to straighten themselves out. King Alfor opened his mouth to speak, unnerved that his daughter was being spoken down on when Allance rose from his seat. 

Calm dark blues spoke of decay and rot as he looked down on the enemy. “Everybody, calm the hell down!”

He glared, full of wrath and blackened liquid as he pointed at Zarkon. “You came here knowing damn well that Princess Allura was going to be herding the treaty. Why the fuck are acting like she has no say?”

Hushed silence once more soaked the room with its uncomfortable temperature. King Alfor looked towards his son with widened eyes and a harsh frown marring his lips. He raised his hand to sit his son down when Zarkon’s lips hardened. 

“You have no respect, do you Prince Allance?”

It was spoken dangerously, full of the dictator he was. Allance, however, couldn’t find it in himself to care. He would face his Father’s wrath after. After he defended his people and his sister, the disrespect making his stomach curdle. 

“That’s right, I don’t,” he hissed. “And remember; you’re the one who wanted to speak with me. It’s your own doing.” 

“Very well.” Zarkon looked towards Lotor, whose face was stone and eyes glittering with amusement. “Shall we continue?”

Still glaring at him, the ocean prince sat back down, making sure to look as un-dignified as possible. He knew his sister and Father were glaring at him, twin eyes of ire staring at him. However, the Prince didn’t listen. He wasn’t stupid, a reason he was the leading General not lost on him, and knew what this meeting entails. 

Didn’t mean he had to act any differently. 

“Fine. But understand this, Zarkon,” he spoke, snarl on his lips, “I will not be herded like sheep in your plans, nor will I bow to demands that don’t benefit both sides. Speaking to me means speaking to the man who murdered your people to defend my own.

“I will not be persuaded.” 

There was nothing shown on the dictator's face, stoney in the harsh sun’s light. His head inclined slightly, ever calm in the face of a storm. “Of course. I have not, or will, take you lightly.” He looked up, yellow eyes aflame. “I am not stupid.” 

Hollow silence as Coran cleared his throat. “Is Prince Allance taking up the meeting, King Alfor?”

The King’s gaze was dark and powerful. “If Emperor Zarkon allows it, would it be alright if we continue this meeting in a fortnight? All war put on hold, no battles, simply await.” 

Emperor Zarkon’s eyes never left the sea. “I concede. My terms are the same.” 

“Fine,” King Alfor bit out. 

The doors on both sides of the room, both behind the respective couches, opened with loud clunks of light wood. Olkarion guards walked in with stony silence as they stood to escort both parties. Just as they were welcomed in, both were aided out at the same measure- leaving no room for backstabbing. 

The Galran General with the purple eyes stood silently for a moment before following after the Lord, Lotor’s gaze haughty as it creased in the corners. Zarkon spoke one last word to Prince Allance; 

“You look just like your mother.” 

***

“I asked one thing, Lance. One thing,” Alfor said to his son, anger pinching between his eyebrows. 

Coran’s eyes volleyed between the two, Allura standing beside him with worry hiding in her gaze. The four of them were sitting in their borrowed rooms from the ever kind Olkari King, the sitting area housing the three unstable royals and one hyper advisor. 

Lance sighed heavily, his attention on his father as he watched Alfor sip moodily at his tea. Coran prepared it, using the blend from an Altean farmer’s humble farm. As calming as it was, Alfor still seemed put out. 

“They could’ve attacked, Lance. It would’ve risked everything we’ve worked for,” he said, then whispered, “everything.” 

“Father, I had to do something,” Lance said. “He was going to stop the meeting!”

Allura let out a weary sigh as she took a seat next to Lance. She reached out a hand to him, the ring on her pinkie the same he had around his neck and he took it after a moment. She gave him a silent smile. 

“Deep breath, okay? We tried.” She looked at Alfor, “we tried, Father. He was going to stop the meeting. He wasn’t going to listen to me, or you and Lance had to take that chance.” 

Her hand squeezed his as he took in a deep breath. He was disappointed in how he acted, so… childish. Like a babe. He was the Prince of Altea, the fucking General of the Army. Why did he let his anger get in front of him like that? 

Maybe he wasn’t ready to look that monster in the eye. 

Not again.

Alfor looked between his two children, looking older beyond his years. “It was a chance. A deadly one. Lance, understand that this isn’t the field, okay? Things could’ve ended far worse.” 

“I know, Father.” 

Coran kindly poured him a cup of Altean tea, his smile small and gentle as the smell assaulted pleasantly in Lance’s senses. “Thanks, Coran.” 

“No worries, Lad! Looked like you needed it,” he said and winked. 

Letting out an amused exhale, he sipped on it as his father watched him. “Lance, I am happy we got to extend the treaty, but please, heed more care next time.”

Nodding, Lance bit back the apologies on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he took a generous sip of warm tea. Allura did the same, taking her hand back to be placed on the other side of her cup. 

“So. That happened, huh?” She started. 

Alfor shook his head, some amusement leaking into his weary face. “Indeed it did, Allura. Annoying, isn’t it.” 

She groaned. “It really is. He had a female officer there, so why in all of Altea did he act like that?”

Coran sat beside Alfor, a hand twirling his moustache. “Lt. Axca is Lotor’s personal guard, not tied all that much with Zarkon himself.”

The breeze that caressed the room was silent, as was the evening on the small country of the Olkari. Wild birds took it upon themselves to sing a gentle tune, perhaps to lull some to sleep. Lance only tilted his head back, thankful that the sitting room was right beside the balcony off of the ledge to the ‘living room’. 

Allura noticed. “You alright, Lance?”

He waved her off. “Just stressed.” A thought came to mind and he sat up. “You know he’s just an asshole, right, ‘Lura? A sexist lil' bitch.”

“Lance!” Alfor shouted, his eyes wide and lips thinned. 

Allura let out a surprised laugh. “Wow Lance, tell us how you really feel.” But she had a glint in her eyes, a wonderful one that made Lance think of their mother. It was a nice feeling. 

“I’m serious! He is- you just know from how he looks. A veiny, wrinkly dick he is,” he said, nodding to himself as Coran and Alfor looked stricken. 

Allura shook her head, letting out a more free laugh. It’s been a while since Lance had her laugh like that, free and unrestrained. Pride welled in his chest as he sipped from his cup. The warm breeze slid against his skin and he blinked away a tired yawn. 

His father noticed. “Well, it’s getting late. We do have a lot to deal with in the days ahead, don’t we.” He got up and looked at his children with affection in his eyes. “Know that I am proud of you.” 

And with that, their father retired to his room with Coran trailing after him. His own room was adjacent to the King’s, though fairly smaller in comparison. The seating room they were in had three doors on either side, two for the siblings’ rooms, and the one for the King. 

It was a fairly modest room, all things given. Much smaller than Lance was used to. 

Comfortable silence stretched between the two, both soaking in the pleasant night. And as tired as Lance was, with a headache pulsing annoyingly at the back of his skull, he took pleasure in seating there next to his older sister. 

“Lance, can you tell me about the war?”

He choked on his tea. Wiping it away with a napkin, he turned to her. However, her eyes weren’t on him. They were looking towards the window, stars reflecting in them with soft hope spinning the lies that shredded in Lance’s lungs. 

He swallowed as she blinked away a few tears. “Sorry, Lance, I just-” 

“You’re not a child, Allura,” he told her, suddenly feeling heavy all over again. “You help just as much as I do.”

She let out a hum, but it broke a bit. She took another sip. “You just have seen so much Lance, sometimes I feel like I don’t have the right to speak as I do.”

“Like what? A powerful princess? Like how a queen should speak?” That’s right. Since Allura was the eldest and soon coming of age, she was going to become the queen in a few years. 

“Lance…” 

“What I’ve seen is nothing that I want to have to see. Especially you,” he said, speaking honestly. Maybe to honestly, but her smile melted his doubts. 

“You fight for those who need a voice, for our allies, for our people. You give them hope, Allura. 

! You know how sacred that is.”

She gave him a broken, small little smile. She still looked worn, like something was eating at her, but some had melted in her eyes. He felt heavy and useless as she set her tea down, knowing Coran would want to pick it up later. 

“Sorry, Lance,” she whispered. 

“For what?”

“For making you upset.”

He shook his head and grabbed her hands, much like how she did for him. He squeezed them gently as she wiped away a tear crawling out of her eye and down her cheek with her shoulder. 

“I’ll never be upset about that, Allura. Never. Any worries you have, share them! Just like how I share my worries with you.” He smiled at her, gently standing up and taking her with him. She let him, and together Lance led her to her designated room. “Tomorrow will be better, alright?” 

He leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “You are strong, Allura. And you’re my big sister, so that makes you hella strong in my eyes.” 

She let out a wet laugh. “Thank you, Lance.” 

And with that, he waved her off as she went in her room, softly shutting if behind her. Then Lance was draped with a heavy silence. 

He wasn’t used to seeing Allura… like that. She always tried her best not to cry, or show anything other than how a ‘princess should act’. He was worried, really worried, and tried to ignore it as it pinched his stomach. 

His headache grew way too annoying though, and he sighed as he went to his own door- right beside Allura’s. 

He hoped that tomorrow would be better, he really did. 

***

Lance watched the shrunken Galran party with a set in his jaw and his shoulders. 

He was standing on his balcony, absentmindedly sipping on a fresh brew of tea, courtesy of Coran. He, Alfor, and Allura went to go eat with the Olkari in some sort of peace-strengthening bond. The Olkari had been some of Altea's longest friends, but when the war started, they wisely chose to stay neutral. 

Lance had thought that the Galra would do the same, hence why he was hiding in his room, but nope. He watched with narrowed eyes as the General, Akira, and his Military commander, Shirogane, walk through the courtyard murmuring to each other. 

While Lance felt a little ashamed, he couldn’t shake the need or the reflex to prop his sniper on the guardrail and take out his enemy. Thankfully he had more tact than that- but the need was still there. 

He busied his trigger happy hands with his tea. 

He had encountered many, _many_ , Galra before, but never had he seen quite the half-breed like General Akira. He had noted this on the field, but it was even more noticeable now. Akira wasn’t as tall as traditional Galra, nor was he tinted purple or covered in fur. He looked like a damn human!

Human like that commander Shirogane, one Lance remembered facing off against on the ground. That scar was done by his own hand when he was cornered against a wall and the human commander- he took the chance against the _Champion_. 

A human was only on Galra’s land as a slave, and the race was known for its Gladiator style entertainment. 

But Lance refused to feel pity. He took a sip. 

And promptly almost fell out of his seat when vivid dark eyes met his own. 

Akira’s gaze was mute, silent, and angry. He had stopped right in the middle of the courtyard, Shirogane stopping as well, and he suddenly had two pairs of eyes on him. Lance refused to back down- he never did, and stared right back. 

He even took another sip just to prove how much they didn’t unnerve him, those bastards. 

“Lance? Lance are you here?”

Allura’s voice called for him and he cursed. The two enemies continued walking, however far more quickly than before, and he turned to his sister. 

She was in more traditional Altean garb, modest clothing to hide their body tattoos, and she held a tray of pastries. Almost like an offering, and he smiled at her as he shook his head. Seeing those two made him tense all over and he didn’t want to stomach anything right now. 

She placed the tray down on the small side table beside him. “What’s wrong?”

He waved her off. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. How was breakfast?”

She gave him the _look_. 

“If you say so.” She was still standing by the door, hair that was piled into a delicate array of braids shifting slightly in the ever-present wind. “And it was fine. I mean, Zarkon and Co. were there, except for Akira and Shiro.” 

Lance raised a brow. “Shiro?”

“Oh. He asked us to just call him that,” she says as she shrugs. “Says it’s easier to say.”

He let out a thoughtful hum. Shiro, huh? Still polite then, given that it was his last name but Lance didn’t think that much about it. He finished off his tea as he stood, having watched the enemy go into the training building. “Where are they going?”

“Zarkon?”

“Yeah, for the day. Like, did he say?”

“He invited all of us to train,” she said, her eyes pinched. 

Lance whirled on her, shock in his face. “The hell did you say?”

Shrugging, she made her way back into the seating room, her dress twirling around her ankles. He followed after her, slamming the doors closed to the balcony, and glaring in her direction. She met his glare with one of her own. 

“Don’t get angry at me, Allance.” Ouch. Full name. 

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Sorry ‘Lura. I just- Father didn’t agree to that, right?” Who in their right mind would motherfucking train with the _enemy_?!

She frowned at him, still narrowing her eyes. “He did, and he and Zarkon asked if you were there. It’s supposed to be light-hearted, to say that we all fought together on even ground.”

He blinked at her. She understood, his sister always did, and braced her hands on his shoulders. She had to look up at him, though she wasn’t short herself, and offered him a peaceful smile. 

“I know it’s weird. I know it’s insane to even say, Lance. I was there and couldn’t believe that Father agreed! But Lance-” she cut herself off with a sigh. “It’s to be seen as allies fighting together, not against. That’s how it was worded, anyway.”

He bit his tongue, it started to bleed, and he swallowed it thickly. Did Alfor not understand what this meant? How it could be used against them in the actual field? He tried to not show to much annoyance at their Father’s decision, though he knew Allura knew what he was thinking. 

He gently eased himself from her hands and started to walk towards the door, limbs falling back into its march. He felt his heart in his throat as Allura silently followed after him. It was some solace that she got why he was so annoyed. 

So, so very annoyed. 

As they walked down the halls, he tried to calm his breathing. Really tried to. He didn’t have much time until they were at the training building, given how small this castle was. Could it really be labelled as such? So small compared to the Altean Palace. 

“Lance?”

He felt a hand worm it’s way into his own. He side-eyed Allura, who’s jaw was set in determination. Then slid to their hands. Despite the anger thrumming through him, seeing their hands clasped like when they were kids had his blood calming. 

His big sister always knew what to do. 

He squeezed her hand and gave her a small smile. “I’m fine, Allura. This has to be done, huh? To show how serious we are?”

She nodded, pride blossoming in her sun-soaked eyes. Maybe glad he understood? “And it shows how serious they are.” 

They spoke in their native Altean tongue, not wanting the servants around them to clue in on what they were saying. Not that they didn’t trust them but- words were split, just as blood was to get Altean secrets. 

“Just remember Lance, it’s a friendly skirmish,” she whispered. He squeezed her hand in understanding. 

They only walked a bit until they were at the training room doors. It had been, what, ten minutes? Quite a small castle indeed. 

There were Olkarion guards posted on both sides of the doors, their green skin and orange eyes smiling at them with honor and glee as they nodded their heads in unison. Lance and Allura did the same, respect clear between the few of them. 

However, as soon as they were in through the doors, all eyes on were on them. Both the Galran Party and the Altean had eyes on the siblings. In the awkward silence, the doors slammed shut behind them. 

Lance, as disturbed as he was in the current situation, headed forward with his head held high, his sister- who was still holding his hand- following him doing the same. The pace they set was laughable, with them wanting to be beside their father as soon as possible. 

“Prince Allance, Princess Allura, thank you for coming,” King Alfor said as he smiled at them. He was wearing clothing fit for a King and not a soldier, silently telling Lance that he wasn’t the one fighting in the centre of the building. 

Lance’s eyes dragged to it though, to the men standing there. Akira and Shiro stood there side by side with Lotor and Axca on the other end. 

Zarkon was seating on a high rise sort of ledge, with the staircase being were Lance and Allura met with Alfor. “Shall we get started?”

Lance gritted his teeth as Zarkon met his gaze. Tugging on Allura’s hand, they walked up the stairs with their father trailing after them. 

The building, like the rest of the Olkarion grounds, were modest. Small. Nothing to show off or boast, much like the people it housed. Soft bamboo made up most of the floor, the walls draped in see-through fabrics, and high windows shining the morning sun through. 

It was peaceful- something Lance wasn’t used too. 

His father sat beside Zarkon, as a show of mass trust. Unearned in Lance’s eyes, but he sat beside Allura, making sure she was in between him and their father. She did so, but not without glaring at him- probably knowing what he was doing. 

Shrugging at her, he looked down. 

It wasn’t that big of a drop, the staircase was only a few steps, and Lance hated that he was so close to the enemy and not allowed to slit their throats or chop their limbs off. Hate boiled under his skin. 

“What’s happening?” He asked nobody in particular. 

“They just finished their mock fight,” Zarkon answered him. Lance glared at him from around the two bodies between them. 

“Mock fight?” Allura asked. 

Alfor nodded. “They asked to practice before you got here, Allance.” 

“So I _am_ fighting them?”

Zarkon inclined his head. “Not against. With.” 

“What?!” Lance may have yelled, but- the shit? He glanced at Allura, who looked just as put out as Lance was, but didn’t get to say anything. A beep sounded from the speaker on the wall behind them, and Alfor looked at Lance. 

“Go on, son.”

Lance had never been more confused in his life. But his father asked him and he did as such. He, groaning since he just sat down, stood, and made his way down the stairs and towards the matt where all four of his enemies were. 

They watched him with the same hatred he watched them with, his gaze memorising what each one looked like. His eyes slid to Shirogane's, especially the scar that he had personally given the man. 

He had been aiming for the eyes- the only time his aim was ever off. 

But the man surprised him by sticking out an arm, metal, Lance noted and gave Lance a very, very small smile. “Prince Allance, nice to properly meet you.” 

His jaw clenched, well aware of all the eyes on him. Shaking hands with the enemy will solidify the peace talks. But, shaking hands with him will also wash away all the pain his men had suffered through. 

Lance made up his mind and smiled just as gently as Shirogane’s did. “Just Lance is fine. I did try to take your eyes out, after all.” With that, he shook the other man’s hand. Shiro’s eyes were wide with a flutter of amusement in them. 

“Then call me Shiro,” he said. 

Lance nodded and clasped his hands in front of him. Doing so behind his back was a big no-no in this situation. He didn’t want to provoke them with his father and sister just a little ways away from them. 

So he smiled his smile and watched as Shiro did the same. Lotor, who stood next to his Lt., was the next to stick out his hand. But something swam in those eyes, disgusting and vile and Lance bit his tongue once again. 

“Lotor,” he said, smooth deep voice probably having charmed women in the past. Lance was not these women. 

“Lance,” he returned. Never mind that they met each other at the meeting just yesterday, this was important. Shaking hands and greeting names. It had to be done. 

He shook his hand then did so when Axca offered her own. Her grip was not dainty, and he felt respect as she gripped hard and strong and offered a simple greeting. He did the same. 

Now, all that was left was the one person he was never going to shake hands with. The other three have taken lives, have beaten his men, and destroyed their lives.

But he, Lance sneered, took away Altean life. Their culture, their queen, _his mother_. He glared openly at Akira, noting that he did not offer a hand. Angry eyes met his ocean hues and silenced draped over them once more like a silky curtain. 

He did not budge until King Alfor’s voice came through from behind them. “General Akira, this is Prince General Allance. Please shake hands,” he said. Lance hated his father. 

Akira looked dead inside, as Lance was sure he looked the same. But Lance wouldn’t move. 

He refused. 

He never claimed to be mature, never said he was. But looking at the man who killed his mother in front of him was far greater than any other hate he had ever felt. 

“I am not shaking your hand,” Lance said. Low, dim, no room for argument. 

“So you’d rather me burn your towns and cities again?” Akira’s voice was dark and dangerous. 

Lance narrowed his eyes. “I would rather drown yours once more.” 

Shiro placed a hand on Akira’s shoulder, the metal one, and looked at Lance. “Could we please get this out of the way?”

He didn’t move. Instead, he kept staring into Akira’s eyes. How many Alteans had he slaughtered? How many of his people did that monster burn alive? Take as slaves? Sell as merchandise? 

Lance made up his mind. He would rather fight a millennium then shake this diseases’ hand. He might catch the beast. 

He turned on his heel, uncaring for the shouts coming from Shiro, his sister, and father, and the few Olkarion gaurds lingering the walls and the doors. His back was open to the enemy, but he knew he would stop whatever would take him out. 

His mother was right. His pride always did get in his way when it really mattered, didn’t it? 

“So you’re just going to walk away like a coward?” Akira yelled from behind him. 

He didn’t stop walking back towards the door. 

“King Alfor, I’m leaving back towards Altea.” 

He didn’t know his voice. Why was he acting like this? Was it years of watching his people die in pure agony? Seeing their life bleed out, their bodies falling limp in his hands? Their families pleading to their gods to save them all? Was he acting like a coward? 

Or was it watching everything he loved die? Crops that fed millions being burned, homes that housed thousands being looted, and their women being stolen? He could feel the anger burn in his legs and his fingertips, scary emotion making it hard to think clearly. 

He caught it before he was impaled. 

The knife was Galran, that’s for sure. He recognised it from when his mother choked on her own blood, her throat opened to clean shreds. Without thinking for more than a second, instinct had him flinging the fucking thing right back at Akira. 

Of course, the asshole dodged it by crouching. Lance had aimed for the throat. 

“You’re selfish, Allance! Won’t even shake my hand to save the millions in your country? Your pride getting in the way?” 

Allance didn’t listen until her voice echoed through the shouts from the guards. 

“Lance, please. Don’t throw this away. We need to end this war. Please, Lance,” she said in soft-spoken Altean, somehow silencing the whole room. 

“He was the one who killed our mother, Allura. Killed _our mother_. I watched it happen,” he said. Broken shards in his voice, wasn’t it? 

She swallowed, blinking away the sheen in her eyes. He was standing at the end of the staircase, her standing at the top. “Lance, Lance I know it’s hard. But we need to end it. Finish it. Please just shake his hand. Please, Lance.” 

“What are they saying,” Zarkon asked, his voice even. 

“She’s trying to show Lance reason,” Alfor replied, stiff. 

“Does he not care to end the war?” Questioned the man, with no implication in his tone.

Lance grit his teeth. He- he was betraying his mother. Betraying her dying wish- to end the man who ended _her_. She whispered it, with tears in her eyes, and he understood. A hand had been on her stomach, a stomach that was clearly pregnant with his younger sister. 

Breathing in, chest tight, he spoke over his shoulder to Akira. _For her,_ he thought _._ “You want to end this war, General Akira?”

The man’s features were schooled stiff. Gave nothing away. “Of course I want too, Allance.”

“Will you murder any more of my people?”

“Will you?” 

They now stood nose to nose, Lance having crossed the room in long strides. Akira didn’t look Galra at all, was even slightly shorter then Lance by a bit. They were usually taller. 

The other man didn’t flinch as Lance looked him in the eye. 

“I have never killed without reason, Akira,” he said through his teeth. Akira’s jaw jumped. 

“Neither have I,” he said. 

Lance felt like his skin was ripping away as he jerked a hand towards the man who murdered his kingdom. Who first-handedly burned it all down. He tried not to think about that same hand touching his own. 

Akira’s hand was bigger than Lance’s, more calloused as his expertise was in swords and knives. Lance’s fingers wrapped around the other’s, fighting off the urge to vomit. 

“I hate you with every bone in my body, Akira.”

“It’s Keith.” 

“Lance.” 

“Then same to you, _Lance_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. 
> 
> This is a thing now. And I swear I'll continue this- I got some chapters already written. Also- I hope it's not to boring. I promise it'll get juicy as it goes. I'm a sucker for some hard-core, angsty slow-burn. 
> 
> So, Lance is a baddie. Fun! Also, could you let me know if anyone's like, interested in this story? 'Cause... I just wanna know :)
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading! Have a wonderful day xoxo


	2. Crawl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a slow start, but Lance is determined to let everyone know he will not be silenced. This will not be the last time-

Lance sunk into the bath, his eyes the only thing above the water. 

It was a few hours after the mock fight, one that ended up not even happening. It was too tense and would no longer be peaceful . Lance was more than alright with that, still feeling disgusting from where Keith had shook his hand. 

Speaking of- he glared down at his hand and used the washcloth to scrub at it some more. He’s been doing that ever since he retired to his room. It was easy to do. His father couldn’t even look at him, Allura and Coran in the same boat. Made Lance feel like shit. 

But why were they blaming him? He was the one on the field, Alfor and his sister were more background, working with allies and such. They wouldn’t survive on the ground, with the absence of magic. So why? Why did they blame him? 

He glowered into the water, guilt making it’s ugly way towards him. Maybe he should’ve pushed away the disgust he had? The hate? But- that was asking a lot. A lot more than he was willing to do. 

Not for the first time since they arrived here, he wondered why his father brought him here. He was used to commanding an army, not sitting pretty and talking till the sun goes down. 

There was a sudden knock at his door- the main one, not the one connected to the sitting area- and he heard it from all the way in his bathroom. Obviously, he ignored it and left the guards at his door to deal with it. 

He had asked them to leave him alone. 

But, something set off alarm bells in his head. Without thinking, he leapt out of the bathtub (a very nice one, actually), and grabbed his Altean-approved bathrobe. He never knew or tried to understand this instinct he had, but it saved his life countless times. 

So why was it acting up now? 

Tiptoeing to the bathroom door, still dripping wet, he opened it without hesitation. 

And, Lance’ll be honest. He was  _ not _ expecting the General Keith of the Galran Army sitting nice and dandy at his small seating area, with Shiro sitting right beside him. Their eyes met, twin shock, and Lance blinked. 

Blinked twice. 

“The fuck are you doing?”

Keith’s eyes darted to Shiro, who looked just as lost as Keith. Lance pinched his eyes.

A long silence as Lance stood almost naked in front of his two enemies, who looked very put out by him all the same. It was very, very awkward as Lance hugged his robe tighter around himself, thankful for his magic as he started to shrink away the water that dripped his skin back to the tub. 

He didn’t want to fight them off soaked in Lavender body wash. 

“Prince Allance, we were told you wanted to speak with us-”

“Sure the fuck did  _ not _ say that,” Lance bit out, with Shiro smiling slightly. 

“We thought so. But Keith also wanted to apologise,” Shiro continued. 

Keith’s face revealed nothing. The man looked tense, ready to slaughter Lance without even lifting a pinkie. The thought did not help Lance’s anxiety. 

“Look,” Lance sighed. “I did not ask for you, so could you just leave?”

“Prince Allance-”

“Lance.”

“Lance, we need to understand each other first. Could you please hear us out?”

Lance levelled him a no-nonsense look, one he knew replicated his mother’s, and pursed his lips. It would ease his guilt, if he worked it out. And worked out his own issues- cause hey, maybe Lance  _ was _ in the wrong? 

He shrugged. “Sure, man, whatever. Can I change though?” He asked with a small smirk playing on his lips. 

Shiro looked relieved, Keith the stone man didn’t move an inch, and Lance let out a breath as he crossed the room easily and picked up his evening Altean clothes, kinda similar to Shiro’s and Keith’s, and disappeared back into the bathroom. 

Not that he gave a shit, but- well, he would sound like a broken record at this point. But who stripped willingly in front of the enemy? 

When he was finished, he walked silently back into his room. They still sat where they were, with Keith still looking tense to all shit. Lance didn’t blame him. 

He sat across from the both of them, back to his door- which he saw was locked, and raised an eyebrow. “So?”

Shiro tapped his fingers on the table. “Right, well, I’ll say it right now, Lance.” He leaned forward. “We are not with Zarkon.” 

Heavy silence. Lance’s eyes filtered between the two of them. “The hell do you mean?”

Shiro’s eyes met his unflinching gaze. “What I mean is that Keith and I are not allied with the Emperor. We’re… I guess you can say we’re undercover.”

When Lance was younger, a younger general, he had hoped he would come across those against Zarkon up in his ranks. So that he could work with them, to bring down a harsh dictator. But Zarkon was ruthless- he valued loyalty to him more than anything else. 

Those double agents never lasted long. 

Lance’s features hardened. 

“Do not take me for a fool,” he spat. “Trying to trick me? Bullshit. Get the hell out.”

Shiro’s face fell, his eyes lost as he searched Lance’s eyes. “No, no- Lance, we’re not. I swear on my honor that I would  _ never _ -”

Lance slammed his hands on the table. “You know how many claimed the same thing you’re telling me? To get away from my magic or my bullet, to spare their worthless lives?!” 

Shiro swallowed and shook his head, hope leaking through his leg as it bounced. Lance could tell the man was off about something, but how could he not? Lance wasn’t risking a fraud trying to worm it’s way into his trust. 

He wasn’t stupid. 

“Lance, he’s telling the truth. What can we do to prove we’re not working with Zarkon?” 

Keith spoke with the same low tremor that was deep as it was dangerous, eyes calm as they rested on Lance. Lance held that gaze, searching, hating his being as he saw nothing but truth resting in the violent depths. 

“Prove? Prove to me you’re not with  _ him _ ?” Lance repeated. 

Keith nodded. 

“Turn your backs to me. Show me your weapons and let me bath them in my magic, see if you’re lying,” Lance spoke, no room for anything else but his truth. 

What he was asking was a lot for anyone, and especially for a primal race like the Galra. Hell, for humans as weak as they are. But this practice has been done, for millennia, and Lance was always a sucker for shit like that. 

Shiro and Keith exchanged glances. Then promptly dropped their weapons with a soft clatter on the table. Lance blinked down at them, scowling when he saw the blade with purple engravings- the one his mother choked on. 

Glaring at them, he raised his hand. In the dim lighting of his room- the only light coming from the lamp in the corner, his eyes made everything bathe in a haunting blue. It was unforgiving, deadly, and spoke of the pain the ocean washed away. 

He felt the blood thrum in his veins as Keith and Shiro turned their backs to him- even as they saw the power he held. Maybe they were telling the truth? 

No!  _ No they couldn’t be! _

He frowned, deep and harsh, and made sure to clear his throat. “Do you consent to me inspecting your blood? The blood in your heart, I should say.” 

But to his surprise Keith did. “I consent.” 

Lance felt hatred blossom even further as he crept out of his chair. It clanged to the floor with a loud thud. Walking felt powerful as he began to feel everyone in the building and beyond, the water they drank giving him understanding of where they got it and where their location was. 

But he focused on them. Of the  _ disgusting monsters who destroyed his kingdom. _

They didn’t move as he stood behind them. He was taller then both, not by much, but enough where he could see just over their heads. “I could kill you both right here, you know. Make you vomit water, blood, make you  _ fall _ to your knees.” 

His power thrummed as he searched their veins, watching for any lies or deceit. Any chance they would deceive him. 

“And what if I did? What if your brains drowned in your own poison, hm?” Lance still stood behind them, making sure they knew he could very well act on his threats. “Would you scream like the others who claimed what you did?”

He inspected all their words, all their sentences, all their truths. He was growing frustrated that he couldn’t find a single lie. 

“I’ll ask you again; are you traitors to the Galra Empire? To Emperor Zarkon?” 

“Yes,” Shiro said, his voice strong and calm as it always seemed to be. 

Keith echoed him, strength underlying and weaving to prove his point. 

Lance watched their blood, watched it run safely, and smiled. “You’re lying,” he whispered. 

He raised a hand to sever his tie with Keith, watch him spit out all his fluids, when Keith calmly shook his head. “That’s not what I meant, Lance.” 

“Oh?” 

The light from his eyes flickered, aching to kill the man. To see his corpse rot, collapse, weep the blood his Alteans bled. 

“I have people I care about in the Empire. People I want to protect. People I will not betray,” he said. 

“Who?”

“I can’t tell you. Not yet.” 

Lance glared at his neck. “Is it Lord Lotor?”

A snort. “Fuck no.”

“Advisor Thace?”

Silence. 

There. Answered his question. This time, he did not hesitate. He pulled the strings he wove into Keith’s bloodstream and pulled. Immediately Keith fell to his knees, sliding to his side. Shiro’s eyes flew open and he crowded around him. 

“Keith!”

Lance stood over them, uncaring as liquid flew out of Keith’s lips like vomit, but far more smooth. Like the ocean’s waves. He watched as Shiro tried to stop the water, but that would make him choke on it, wouldn’t it? 

“Lance, Lance, it’s not like that, I promise,” Shiro said to him, his arms cradling Keith’s head. Keith, despite knowing he’ll die at any moment, met Lance’s eyes with calm intention. Lance was still connected to him, as he wasn’t fucking dead yet, and he felt true intention. 

He squatted beside them. 

“Is he with Emperor Zarkon? And remember, you’re still connected to me, Shiro,” he said. 

Shiro shook his head. “Thace is like us. He’s working with us, on our side. He hates Zarkon just as much as you and I do.”

Lance’s eyes slid to Keith. “Is this true?”

Keith nodded, trying his damndest it seems to not appear pathetic. Lance would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying seeing his enemy writhe on the floor. 

And all at once it all stopped. The choking, the screaming in their veins, and the haunting glow of Lance’s eyes. He stood back up and calmly made his way back to his chair, watching the men on his floor collect themselves. 

Alright, Lance’ll admit if first, he was a little too trigger happy. But his family was right beside him, he was away from home, and he had the chance to kill the Generals. He would’ve been an idiot not to at least have a  _ little _ fun. 

“Okay. I believe you,” he said, like he wasn’t just killing Keith. 

Shiro blinked at him from where he sat on the floor. “That’s it?” 

Lance rose a brow. “Would you rather me do that whole thing again?” 

“Nope.”

He got up, slowly, and sat across from Lance at the table. Though not before placing Keith on Lance’s bed, knocked out. Lance tried not to sneer at that,

“Will he be alright?” 

Lance did a ‘maybe’ gesture with his hand. “I’ve never pulled away before they died, so your guess is as good as mine.” 

They sat there for a bit, Shiro probably reeling over everything. For a dangerous man, Shiro sure seemed quite peaceful, friendly even. Really different to what Lance would’ve thought about the ‘Champion’. 

But what Keith said was being mulled over, and over, in Lance’s head. So those two had Thace, a man in a wonderful position of being the right hand man of the Emperor, on their side. Their side, which was against the one whom they pledged to. 

Lance watched Shiro with something akin to respect. 

He guessed they’ll be there for a while, or at least until Keith got more fluid in him- 

Right. 

“Shiro, get water for Keith,” he pointed to the sink. 

The man was up and about in no time, doting on Keith like a haggled mother. Making multiple trips back and forth from the bathroom to the bed, Lance assumed it would be a few minutes until Keith woke up- Lance had wanted Keith to die slowly. 

He picked at his nails as a sputtering echoed in the room. Hushed murmerings reached his ears, and while Lance could’ve stretched his range to hear them, he gave them a bit of privacy. 

“You alright?” He asked, not really caring, while still looking at his nails. 

“You did that on purpose,” Keith accused. His shirt was drenched, and Lance wrinkled his nose. 

“The hell I did. You were the one who lied,” he rebuttled. 

“I didn’t lie.”

“Really now. Then why are you covered in your filthy lies, hm?”

“Fuck off. You wanted to kill me.” 

Lance didn’t deny it, and Shiro put a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Okay you two, calm down. We still need to talk.” 

Right. The reason they were there in the first place. Lance sighed as the two made their way back, Keith’s eyes were calmly searching him with a glint of disdain while he sat his ass down at his original chair. Not even half an hour passed, with a glance at the clock, but even still it was getting hella late. 

Lance slumped a bit more in his chair as Shiro cleared his throat. “Now that we all somewhat trust each other, Lance, we need your help.”

He gave a questioning look towards him. 

“We need your help to overthrow the Empire, and more importantly the Emperor.” 

Stony silence before Lance found his voice. “You need me for that? Why? That doesn’t make sense.” 

Shiro sighed. He sounded like an old man. “I know, it really doesn’t. But... “ Shiro trailed. 

The both of them looked put out, uncomfortable with Keith clenching his jaw. The question was on the tip of Lance’s tongue, but before he could ask, Shiro shook his head. “I’m sorry, Lance. It’s a lot to ask of you.”

Lance could see the guilt in his eye. And while Lance had no doubt that they were to be trusted, he still felt weird about all this. Seeing that shade in Shiro’s gaze made him tense. 

“Spit it out, man.”

“We need you to marry Zarkon,” Keith rushed out. 

Lance blinked once. Twice. Paused his breathing as he held it in shock. He hadn’t heard correctly, had he? Those words pass Keith’s lips? There was no way, was there? He couldn’t form words as Shiro trooped on. 

“Or Lotor. Or anyone on the council. The plan would be to offer yourself up for marriage- to sign the two countries together,” he said. “And you would, yes be in enemy land, but close enough to assassinate whoever you’re with. This will cause a distraction and-”

“We’ll take down Zarkon,” Keith finishes. 

Lance nodded. “Pretty sound plan, yes, yes,” but then he scowled at them. “You do understand what you’re asking of me?”

Shiro looked sombre. “We do. We know, Lance. But, we have no other choice.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “You saw how much fuss I put up for not wanting to even  _ shake _ Keith’s hand. What made you think I’ll be good enough for your plan, hm?”

“Well,” Shiro started, thin-lipped. “They seemed interested.” 

What? “Who?”

Keith let out agruff sigh. “You’re not that stupid, are you?”

“Fuck off, Mullet.” 

“Mullet? The hell? I don’t have a mullet.” 

“Sure do, buddy.” 

Keith glared at him, Lance doing the same right back as Shiro heaved a deep sigh. “Lance, Zarkon seems interested in you, for whatever reason. You could use that against him.” 

All the lingering stares came back to mind as Lance felt disgust roll in him. “I think you’re thinking about it wrong.” He worked his jaw as he looked far off at the window behind the two men. 

“Magic, right? That’s what Zarkon’s after. Always has been, and I have a bunch. So does Altea,” he said, low as he thought about the captured Alteans. “He’s after my magic.” Has been since he was a child.

Keith looked like he understood, and Lance was one hundred percent going to ask the fire-user about it after. But for now, he let out a yawn and rubbed at his eyes. “Well, fellas I think we should call it quits for now. It’s like, two a.m.” 

Shiro nodded. “Thank you, Lance.” Then he smiled, slow and soft. “It really helps knowing we have you as an ally.” 

Lance tried not to take that to heart, knowing that he loved the feeling of helping people. Fucking dumbass, he was. He tried not to think about them as Galran soldiers, though. But it was hard. So hard- he’s seen them on the field. 

“Talk tomorrow, then,” Keith said, straight to business. From what Lance seen, the ass only let loose the smallest bit when Lance teased him. 

As Lance watched them leave, taking account of the knocked out guards, he sighed to himself. Was he making a mistake? Was he folding to the enemy? 

Was he failing his kingdom?

***

_ He was here again, drifting through the water like the lightest pebble coloured with snow. The other man laid beside him, soaked in breath-taking fire as the stars danced in his shapeless eyes.  _

_ Lance sighed.  _

_ “Still not telling me who you are?”  _

_ The man-shaped shadow shook his head.  _

_ “I can’t.” His voice was deep, mumbled, unreadable. Something was done to it to seem far echo-y then Lance’s, whose voice was small as he felt beneath all his bravado.  _

_ “What if I showed you me? Will that help?” No different from every night before, and Lance’s own shape was simple water floating on the waves.  _

_ The man shook his head again.  _

_ “This is fine, isn’t it?” _

_ Lance thought. “It is.” _

_ They didn’t speak until the man started to stroke Lance’s hair, having sat up on nothing but blue stars. His shadowed hands were soft in Lance’s hair, gentle, and oh so caring. Warm.  _

_ He did this every night, yet won’t let Lance do the same.  _

_ “What’s bothering you?” _

_ Lance hummed. “I’m not sure I can say.” _

_ “Then how do you feel?”  _

_ “Weak. Helpless.” _

_ “Why?”  _

_ “I’m betraying so many people by doing what I’m doing. I’m not sure it’s worth it in the end.” _

_ “Is it you? Your pride?”  _

_ “What do you mean?”  _

_ “Do you feel like you're betraying yourself?” _

Lance woke up to the dark night, blinking as he felt a tear drip ever so slowly down his cheek. 

Those precious moments with his soulmate only lasted a few memorable minutes. He tried to fall back asleep after refusing to think about the man’s question, even if it ran through his mind without an end. 

He didn’t sleep well that night. 

***

The next morning, the two ignored Lance at breakfast. 

He was briefed on this, of course. And he ignored them right back as he sat next to Allura, who sent him a questioning look. He gave her a reassuring one, and patted the hand on her thigh in a show of how a-okay he was. 

Since he hadn’t eaten the day before, he was starved as they were served both Galran foods and Altean. He only ate the Altean cuisines. 

With a native Altean berry popped in his mouth, he watched the Galran party eat across the table. Their canines were sharper than any other race, made for tearing through bone. It was fascinating to watch, though disgust was ever present in his gut. 

Talks over the table were kept simple. No war speeches or any of the sort- just very polite conversation. Zarkon was seated across the table from Alfor, who was seated beside Lance, and kept giving Lance a side glance every so minute. 

Was Lance supposed to seduce the man now? Smirk and shake his ass? He had no idea. And frankly, hated the mental image in his head. He swallowed the berry and took a sip from the Coran-approved tea. 

It wasn’t hard to hide the fact of a coup from Zarkon. Or anybody, as Lance has been a part of some covert missions before. 

“So, Prince Allance, will you be joining us for dinner?” 

Zarkon’s voice pierced through his thoughts and it took everything in Lance’s power not to choke on his tea. All eyes were on him again. 

But screw it. Zarkon would assume something was up if Lance did anything off now. And Lance was not about risking other people’s lives for no reason.

“Father, do you want me there?” He asked to his left, completely ignoring Zarkon. 

His Father frowned slightly at him for that but answered regardless. “Please do, son. Someone will escort you there,” he said. 

Lance shrugged and reached to chomp on another berry when Zarkon’s smooth voice assaulted him again. “Prince Allance and I have not had a pleasant conversation as of late. It would be do time we did.” Zarkon didn’t ask questions. He demanded. 

The King looked torn, his jaw working. But Lance met the Emperor's gaze head on, disgust making sure it was seen. “I can answer for myself, Zarkon.” He bit, “I will walk with you.” 

He spat the words, disdain clear as silence reigned the room. Zarkon’s face gave nothing away, though he simply nodded. Allura, with her face wiped of any confusion, clapped her hands softly. 

“Thank you, Emperor Zarkon and Prince Allance- this will be a wonderful step for our countries.”

Nobody said another word throughout breakfast. 

***

Allura hummed to herself as she went about the garden, Lance trailing behind her. 

Modest clothing once more a staple on both Alteans, their conversation was slow and peaceful. Much like the midday sun. It called to them, the rays that made crops grow and the flora flourish singing a pleasant tune. 

Wildflowers native to the Okliri were kissing their clothed legs, untamed as the country believed to let the wildlife roam free. The meat tasted better apparently and the weeds were easier to cut. Lance didn’t think too hard about it. 

“What do you think Hunk’s doing?” 

“Probably eating us clean,” Allura responded. She had a basket in her hands as she picked up all the dead flowers on the- you guessed it- bamboo walkway. It was looking a little pathetic next to the still alive ones. 

Hunk was the assistant head chef at their kitchen back in Altea. And, when Lance was younger, had met accidentally when Lance had stumbled in drunk from too many drinks with the boys. He was a wild one at twenty-two. 

But ever since that day- they were as thick as thieves. He loved the guy. 

“Probably. But I miss him,” Lance whined. He held the full basket his sister had finished and was swinging it around like an idiot. 

She sighed. “Same here. But honestly he’s just making new dishes without Coran haggling him.” She bent at the knees to pick up a stray flower. 

He snorted. Coran and Hunk had a sort of rivalry going on. Coran believed in traditional ways of cooking, while Hunk loved to experiment. It would be fine if Coran actually knew how to cook- which he didn’t, and resulted in many trips to the bathroom; either vomiting or shitting your pants. Sometimes both, at the same time.

“True.” he replied with longing. 

They walked a bit under the tall bushes as they talked about mundane things. Too mundane. It was as if Allura was walking on eggshells around him. But that just brought upon another question- could he tell Allura? 

He’s spoken to her about everything before.  _ Everything _ . It seemed weird not to do so now. But before he could really think about it, there was a rustling in the bush in front of them, loud and growling. 

Allura’s face dropped, and Lance gently pushed her behind him- even knowing full well that she was the one who taught him hand-to-hand. 

“Who’s there?”

The rustling stopped. The Altean siblings watched with a baited breath as the growling decreased into small whimpers. Lance blinked as it registered. 

_ Ah. A wounded animal.  _

Allura made her way around him, a protest on his lips, when she pushed aside the leaves. Lance looked over her shoulder and tried to stifle his response. 

It was a child. Young. Way too young to even be out here on Castle grounds. Female by the looks of it, with her modest dress shredded to pieces and her face drenched in tears. Lance respectively kept his eyes on her face- the dress was that torn. 

“Do you need help?” Allura asked, softly. She had her hands hovering over the child, unsure what she was allowed to do. 

The child stared at them, tears still leaking out, and she jerkily nodded her head. “May I hold you, young one?”

More tears as the child hiccuped a “yes”. Allura embraced her, tucking her safely within her arms, and started to gently rock her. Lance kept his distance. 

“Could you tell us what happened?” He asked, trying to show her that he was no threat. 

The child could only heave a few breaths before she scrubbed at her eyes. Her voice was far younger than what he expected. “I- I’m sorry! So sorry, I just-” She broke down again. 

Him and Allura exchanged  _ very  _ confused glances, still unsure what the ever flying fuck was happening. The girl was trembling, trying desperately to take in a proper breath. Allura reassuringly rubbed small circles on her back. 

“No, no it’s my fault,” he said. “ What’s your name?”

She sniffed. “Jixku.”

He smiled at her, the one only directed towards children. “Hello Jixku. I’m Lance, and that’s my sister, Allura. Are you hurt?”

The girl paused before slowly shaking her head. Lance crept backwards a bit, squatting now, as he tried to think of what to say. He loved being around children- they were so happy! And free, laughed without a care. He imagined himself a father one day afterall, even though right now he didn’t know what words to utter. 

But Allura, lovely Allura, always knew what to say. 

“It’ll be alright now, dear. We’re here now and we’ll take you to the nearest doctor. Do you know where that is, young Jixku?”

Her vivid lime orange eyes glistened with something akin to hope and thankfulness, her small body still shaking in small tremors. Messy dark green hair stuck out in odd angles, a ribbon laid hazardly in the bushes. 

Lance’s eyes trailed the tracks that led further into the garden, and he felt something roll over and die in his gut. He met Allura’s questioning gaze. He pointed wordlessly to what he saw. 

She looked over her shoulder, and after a moment, slowly nodded her head. 

To Jixku, she whispered, “It’ll be alright, Jixku. We’re going to the doctor now, and she’ll help you.” She offered the girl a warm smile. 

As soon as they turned around and out of sight, with Allura still carrying the girl no older than seven, he leaped into action. A harsh pulse was grinding his jaw, anger once again alive in his veins. 

The trail smelled of fear and desperation. Vile encryption of innocence that was attempted- he snarled to himself. He knew something was off, god dammit, and yet he didn’t want to ruin Allura’s peaceful reprieve. 

Their flower baskets lay forgotten at the mouth of the garden. 

He followed after for a few minutes, silent as his solar counterpart, and gently pushed away the flowers in his vision. It only took him a little while to reach where it all started. And what he saw made his insides squeeze in disgust. 

Lotor sat at one of the viewing benches, his hair that was always done prefect- was in a slight disarray. He was attempting to fix it. All alone he was, with no Axca in Lance’s sights. Would she have let this happen, if she were there? 

Coran’s words came back;  _ She’s Lotor’s personal Lt. _

He scowled as the man turned to look at him. Slight surprise in the way his eyes widened quickly, but faster than that it was covered with nothing but bemusement. Lotor picked at his clothes, which had a few claw marks in it, and smiled at Lance. 

Lance glared at him. 

“Hello, Prince Allance. What brings you here?” Lotor asked, polite, but with smarmy snakes sliding in between the words. 

“Fuck it with the pleasantries,” he snarled. “What happened here?”

Lotor’s face gave nothing away. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying, Prince Allance.”

Lance didn’t move from where he stopped speed-walking. Him and Lotor were alone in this garden now, or at least in this part, and Lance felt that familiar instinct to  _ kill _ the dirty asshole where he sat. 

“Don’t play coy with me Lotor. What the hell did you do to that girl, huh?” He spat out, just so utterly disgusted to be in the same space as him. 

Lotor watched him, assessed him, and Lance realised just who exactly he was dealing with. Lotor was the man who planned all foregn attacks, attacks against other neighbouring countries then Altea for their magic and weapons. He was ruthless in his methods, and wasn’t afraid to cut down anyone who defied him. 

Frightening, sure, but Lance wasn’t a pussy.

Lotor, still watching him with those puke-yellow eyes, patted the bench next to him gently. “I don’t know why you hate me so much, Prince Allance. I’m actually quite an admirer of you.”

Lance didn’t want to sit next to him. But, realising that Lotor won’t speak to him any more, he sat across from him, on the other bench. Lotor slowly placed his hands back in his lap. 

“What do you mean,” he said, trying to put as much annoyance in his voice as possible. He didn’t even want to look at him. So he let his eyes travel to the small pond that laid beside them, gentle water soothing his nerves. 

He took a harsh breath as Lotor sighed. 

“Ever since I was a boy, I heard stories of the great Prince; the man who could sink a thousand ships and drown a million men.” Lotor was looking up, towards the sky, and gave a soft, gentle smile. “Out of nothing but a glass of water, or nothing at all. Could manipulate the water in the other’s body. I didn’t believe the legend.”

Lance watched the fish in the tiny pond swim around, their golden gills sparkling. “You’re not that much younger then me, man. Quit with that bullshit.”

“How old are you, Prince Allance?”

Lance looked at him from the corner of his eye. “In Altean years I suppose I’m eighty-four.”

Lotor hummed. “Exactly. I just had my twenty-ninth birthday a month ago,” he said.

Shrugging, Lance rolled his shoulders. “Alright. Proved your point. Doesn’t change anything though- I don’t really care that much that he admired me, Lotor. Actions speak louder than words.” 

Lotor, nodding, sent him another smile. “I’m aware, Prince Allance. But when I heard your legend, understand that I wanted to be like you.

“But, even if that’s what I sought, I realised my true desire not long after meeting you.” 

Lance felt the air shift, the tides switch, and the sky darken. The mid-day sun was ever present and blistering the stone bench in which he was perched on. Lotor’s voice took an edge, a dangerous edge, and Lance raised an eyebrow. 

“What does that mean?”

“I have a desire for powerful things, Lance,” the purple man explained. “And my, you are one powerful being indeed.” 

Chills raced down Lance’s spine. The feeling was not something he liked, or was privy to. Lotor hadn’t moved an inch, still keeping his voice steady and eyes even. The man was still watching him, gaze hunting down his skin. 

Lance felt naked and he glowered. “Stop this pathetic act, Lotor. What are you trying to say, you bastard?”

But Lotor only shook his head, white hair oddly like his sisters now tamed into a low pony-tail bouncing with the movement, and stood up. He was tall, taller then Lance who had now stood to face him as well. Neither moved as Lotor smiled. 

Like a demon who laid eyes on it’s first sweet thing in a millennium. . 

“I didn’t do anything to that girl that she didn’t want, or ask for, Prince Allance,” the man said. “And I would never force myself onto another.” 

Then, quicker then Lance had expected, Lotor was bending slightly to reach his ear. Hot breath coated his skin as Lance’s wide eyes caught fire-yellow ones. “I also collect pretty things, Lance.”

And with that, the man disappeared. Probably with the use of his Empire’s magic, a cloaking one that Lance still hadn’t figured out. But Lance was livid. Angry. With a horrific, pained shout, he used the power pulsing in his blood to make all the pond water arise like a storm. 

It held like a vice as he avoided the water in the plants, the soil, the water in the clouds. He wanted to maim, destroy,  _ avenge.  _ But then, his eyes caught the small fish still swimming in the water. Calm. Like Lance didn’t just up-root their entire home. 

With a glare, towards himself mostly, he placed it gently back to where it was. 

He had done it again. Lost his temper. It was always like this, wasn’t it? One moment he was calm, the next a vengeful tyrant. The water winked at him. 

Almost whispering to him that;  _ That’s what the ocean is, my love. Dangerous. Angry. Yet calm and pleasant. Be careful, darling. As it’s waves could both sooth and destroy.  _

With a sigh, he melted against the bench as his thoughts danced in disarray. 

***

The birds sang their sorrowful tune as Lance sat on his bed.

It was beginning to become the evening, with the hickory scent in the air and the birds finally making their appearance- the same ones from the night before. The ones who’s lullabies could make even the most insomniac person pass out. 

If he was being honest, and unsurprisingly, he didn’t want to go. Really, really didn’t. But the past couple days had made him realise that hey, maybe he should actually put aside his well-earned hatred for the better good. 

It still sucked though. 

After what happend with Jixku and Lotor, he felt even more beaten down then usual. He hadn’t had a chance to speak with Allura yet, or see if Jixku was alright, so he just sat there, hating life. 

But one thought kept coming in, and that was Lotor was a disgusting creep. 

He shouldn’t have been intimidated by someone like a  _ Galra _ , but something in that gaze, in those eyes, had his insides roll over and cower. He wasn’t used to cowering, or rolling over and taking it. 

Scowling at his useless hands, he counted the minutes until Zarkon would knock at his door. 

It seemed so weird, so odd, that an Emperor would escort the enemy Prince to a dinner. It just didn’t sound right. Not to him, nor the voices in his head. Everything was just so… confusing. Nothing was making sense. 

His thoughts were all a jumbled mess, so he mentally made a checklist to keep his sanity. 

  1. Lotor threatened him. Lotor is a creep and a pervert. 
  2. Zarkon was going to escort him to the dining hall. 
  3. He still hadn’t spoken with Keith or Shiro about any plans, maybe they’ll come by at night again. 
  4. His father still wasn’t speaking with him. Or, he was, but it was painfully polite. He was still mad at him. 
  5. He hadn’t spoken with Allura or Jixku yet. 



Annoyance ate at him as he stewed in his thoughts. 

Then there was the anticipated knock at his door just as he was getting real stressy-depressy, his eyes widening at the fact that, wow, this was really happening. 

With a deep, deep sigh, he picked himself up off his bed and triple checked himself in the mirror. While he couldn’t give less of a shit what he looked like towards anyone-he dressed for himself, as always. And he felt mighty confident in his garb. 

Modest Altean, obviously, with a high collar dress shirt and slacks that went down to his ankles. Both hiding his marks and concealing his weapon. His cape was for more ceremonial things, or when he was presented as a prince. 

Tonight- well, he was, but it was supposed to be more relaxed. Which sadly he wasn’t. 

“Prince Allance?” 

“A second, Zarkon.”

He felt sick. So, so very sick. A vile snake wormed its way into his body, and he wrung his hands like nobody's business. He could feel the air closing in on him, but what could he do? Maybe he should play nice. 

Disgust welled in him as he took one last glance at the mirror, his multiple fine-edged earrings dancing with delicacy. The small blue gems glinted in the lamp light as he walked across the room with grace, with nonchalance. He was obviously practising, practising being a fake ass hoe for at least an evening. 

But not as fake as to hide his disgust as he pulled open the door. 

The man himself stood there, acting like he shit don't stink. No expression, no tell, nothing. Lance scowled, but held his head high as he made eye contact with a person who surely decapitated at least a hundred of his fellow Alteans. 

The other’s gaze briefly looked him up and down. “Prince Allance, you look well,” he said. 

Lance narrowed his eyes. “Thanks.” And didn’t say anything else as he pushed past him, which was a little comical given that Zarkon was at least three and half heads taller than him. “Shall we?” He bit out as he stalked ahead, noticing when he didn’t follow him. 

The hallway’s lights were dim, enough to see but enough to cast ominous shadows. The windows encasing the side of the hallway allowed for the setting sun, however the gentle curtains softly bellowed through them. 

Lance looked over his shoulder, frown still marring his features. He’ll be civil, he’ll be neutral. But don’t ask him to be polite. 

He’ll spit in the man’s face if he ever asked for a smile or a thank you. 

“Prince Allance,” Zarkon started, still facing his now shut door. “I said I shall escort you, not walk with you.” 

Confusion must have shown on his face because Zarkon held up his elbow slightly as he turned around to face him. Lance swallowed his dread. “You want to escort me like that? You disrespecting me?” Lance had nothing against gender roles, as he cared very little about them, but it almost felt… demeaning. 

Zarkon shook his head. “I am not, Prince Allance. I am merely offering an arm to signify peace.” 

Lance called bullshit. 

But he gritted his teeth and went towards Zarkon. “You should know I feel physically ill when I think about even  _ touching _ you.” 

Zarkon’s lips twitched down at the corners, so fleeting Lance nearly missed it, but he knew what he saw. He felt some pride at that. “Your honesty is befitting of a man such as yourself- now please understand that basic respect is all I ask for. Such as I am speaking with, I ask the same in return.”

“You killed my friends, my land and my people. And you ask for  _ respect _ ?” Lance almost laughed through the pain. 

“You have done the same as well, Prince Allance,” he said, dark as something flashed in his yellow eyes. 

“In response to you attacking us out of nowhere,” he growled out.

Silence. But Lance didn’t regret what he said. It was the truth- nothing was a lie. The Galra and Altean Kingdom used to be allies, and powerful ones at that. Until something got in Zarkon’s head, messed with him, and turned him into the fuck twat he was today. 

A shame that Lance knew the man he was before he turned evil, a man that he had actually once looked up to. 

He looked at Zarkon, almost pitying. “Don’t belittle me, Zarkon.” He leaned in close, not letting the difference in height make little of the danger in his veins. “I am not a child, much as my sister has said, and I do not want to play nice with the man who betrayed my father.” 

Zarkon held eye contact with him as he stood beside him. “I will not touch you, however I will walk by your side. As an  _ equal, _ ” he said, ice spilling his blood as he spoke through thin lips. Hatred still thrummed but the yearn for peace won out. 

Silence for a bit until Zarkon yielded and slowly brought to his side his arm, stiff and proper as ever. Lance kept his eyes forward as they started to walk down the hall, towards the dining hall. 

Wonderful light spoke to the prince as he shifted through memories, through experiences and pain that left his heart beating in his throat. Neither spoke as the guards kept their position along the walls. Their eyes respectful and silent as the two stopped outside of the doors leading into the dining room. 

Neither of them spoke as the doors opened for them, the muttered conversations leading off as Zarkon and him walked in- with Lance’s head held high and eyes meeting any that lingered for too long. 

_ That’s right. I ain’t no one’s bitch.  _

There was one long table in the middle of the small room, generous with fine details but not grander or anything. Fit with the Okilri vibes- simple and elegant. The whole Galarn party was there, as was Aflor and his sister. Coran was sitting dutifully at the end in title succession. 

The King of the Okliri people was… Lance internally scowled. Not the best man. Actually, he was a coward. So while he allowed the peace talks to take place, the bastard had asked to be left alone. 

Only reason why the fucking kingdom was still running as smoothly as it was, was all due to the Okilri’s King’s daughter, Lomi. She wasn’t there, as asked by Zarkon. A shame, since Lomi was a sweetheart.

Zarkon took the seat across from his father- no one was sitting at the head, and Allura was to the left of Alfor. Lotor was sitting across from her, with Acxa sitting primly next to him. 

Lance took the seat beside Allura, with her eyes following him with confusion when he refused to look at her. Wasn’t like he was mad at her or anything- it’s just that he was trying to say without words to Shiro, who sat beside Keith, how much of a douche Zarkon was.

Shiro offered him an amused smile. 

“Thank you for coming in time, Emperor Zarkon,” Allura said, taking her attention off of Lance, smiling at the asshole. 

Zarkon inclined his head. “It is what we agreed to.”

There were similar greetings around the table, and Lance tried not to let Lotor catch his eye. Hate still spilled in his gut though when he thought about the morning. 

Should he had said something to someone? 

_ But to who? What would that do, he didn’t do anything. Not really- besides being a pedophillic creep.  _

A sudden smell so divine met Lance’s senses, and with a growl of hunger from his stomach, realized just how hungry he was. The morning’s meal had nothing on the smells of his native lands' most traditional foods. 

Hunk would’ve wept with joy if he saw this shit. 

As his platter was placed in front of him, he saw that Keith’s eyes were held steady at his own plate. Lance took it in with disgust, noting the barely-cooked meat mixed with some weird-ass veggies. But he couldn’t think more of it until one of the head chef’s spoke. 

“It is to our delight that we serve you your country's most traditional of meals, with the desire to transport you to when your country's reign first began!” The man who spoke was small and slim, way to slim to be a head cook, but Lance shrugged it off. “We hope we do them justice, and we thank you for letting us serve you for the night.” 

He bowed and then rushed off, taking his trays with him as he went. And with a resounding thud, he was out of their sights and behind the door he disappeared through. 

“Thank you for trying, Lance,” Allura’s whispering voice had him looking at her. She had a soft smile, pride in her eyes, and her hair up and out of her face. She glowed in the dim lighting, and looked so much like their mother that it hurt. 

He gave her a smirk. “Of course, ‘Lura.” Then dropped his eyes to her plate, noting how laughably small the portion was. He raised an eyebrow. 

She sighed as she caught on. “No idea. It’s not even enough for a child.” 

He nodded. “Not even lookin’ enough for a damn snack.” She pouted at him and subtly, under the table, whacked his shin with hers. He held back a whine. 

“So, General Akira,” Alfor started after he sipped from his wine. “How did you become of your position? You appear awfully young.” 

Keith looked wildly uncomfortable, untouched plate moving around with his now steady fork. Shiro offered a polite smile as Keith’s eyes darted to Lotor. 

“I’ve held this position through ranks, King Alfor. Just as anyone else.”

Alfor nodded. “How old are you, then?”

“... Thirty-Eight, sir.” 

The King, and his children, blinked in unison. That was a child’s age, not even an adult yet! But, to Lance, Keith looked his age. And he was a whole ass teenger himself, not close to even having reached adulthood. 

“Forgive me, General Akira,” Alfor said after some uncomfortable moments. “You appear the same age my children.”

Keith nodded, though he probably knew what made the Alteans shocked. 

Lotor spoke up. 

“Well,” dammit, this creep’s voice was like soft honey, “we Galrans do age the same as you Alteans, however we mature far quicker.” There was a slight grin on his face, and not the good kind. Also didn’t sit all too well with him, as Keith shrunk in on himself just the slightest bit. 

“Could ‘a fooled me,” Lance said, not regretting the sharp look his family gave him. 

Lotor’s grin froze. “What do you mean?” 

He took an obnoxious sip of his own drink, not wine as he was a baby, and openingly mocked the Lord. “Obviously, you’re not mature enough to not prey on children.” 

Stone. Stone silence filled to the brim with ice washed like acid through the room. Nevermind the looks Lance was sent, but Zarkon’s tense eyes were trained on the man beside him. Lotor, for his part, kept up the cool act. Not letting anything show, he simply took a bit of his dead carcass animal drizzled with sauce. 

Allura sent him a half worried, half enraged look. 

“My son, what are you talking about?” 

Lance shrugged and sat back in his seat. He had a feeling he was going to get kicked out soon, but no way in hell was he going to keep silent. His earlier worries were gone now, so he felt like he said his peace. 

He wanted to see what Zarkon would do. 

“Earlier today, after breakfast, me and Allura went to the gardens.” Lotor’s hand gripped his fork tighter. “Then a child came crying through the bushes.” He turned to Allura and said, “how is she by the way?” 

Allura looked a bit put out, uncomfortable with where this was going. “She’s alright.” 

Lance let out a relieved sigh. “Good, good,” he said. “Her dress was torn, she was dirty, and I followed the path to where I then saw-”

“Enough.” 

Lance’s mouth softly shut, not regretting his actions one bit. His eyes slid to Zarkon’s, almost teasingly, as he caught the grim distaste lining his matured face. “Is this true, Lord Lotor.”

Not a question, but a demand. Seemed the guy didn’t like asking. 

Lotor only kept a neutral face as he continued to eat. He didn’t look at Zarkon, only kept calm eye contact with Lance. 

“I was at the Gardens, yes. But I didn’t do anything to harm another,” he said. Lance called bullshit. 

Tense silence rang supreme as Keith’s gaze kept flickering between them, frown harsh as Shiro mirrored the expression. Perhaps they were going to say something, anything, against Lotor? But his sister beat them to it. 

She sat there, shoulders back as her eyes made steady contact with Zarkon. “I was there, Emperor Zarkon. And from what I’ve seen, it cannot be ruled that Lotor was the one who had committed. However,” she glared at the men across from her, “I do not want to belittle what had happened to the child. She was assaulted, and it could very well be Lotor. I do not believe my brother would lie.” 

Alfor was silent until he sighed. “I’m aware this is a serious issue, however I ask we go back on topic. We will discuss Lotor’s probable actions on a later date.” He then added, “I apologise for bringing it up.” 

And with that, the table went back to quietly talking about the peace between the land. Crops, aid, troops, etc. It was a sudden curve that Lance scowled for the rest of the dinner. 

He didn’t notice eyes on him as he sipped at his tea. 

***

“I can’t believe you, Lance!” 

His father’s voice echoed through the hall, powerful and daunting as Lance leaned against the wall, staring at his father in silent disappointment. 

It was hours past the uncomfortable dinner, which Lance hadn’t been allowed to speak after the conversation he caused, and Alfor asked him with a growl in voice to step outside their rooms. He had even ordered the guards to extend further away, so he and Lance could talk privately. 

The man looked haggard as he slid a hand through his hair. “You didn’t have to say anything, Lance! You made yourself a fool!”

Lance sighed harshly. “Are you serious right now?” 

“Yes!” Aflor shouted. Lance tried not to flinch. “It was a peace meeting! A  _ peace _ meeting! Who in their right mind would bring up something so unsightly at a _ peace talk _ !” He yelled the last two words louder and Lance scowled at him. 

“It had to be said! Maybe he wouldn’t do it again, father, I know what I saw!” His hand clenched where his arms were crossed. “I had too! I had to mention it, to see what Zarkon would do!” 

Alfor glared at him. “That is stupid, Lance. Stupid! Zarkon is dangerous, and could’ve turned on  _ you _ . What would you have done then, hm? Fought back?! No! It’s a  _ meeting about peace! _ ”

He shrunk in on himself as he blinked back frustrated tears. Why couldn’t his father understand? Understand that he had to mention it? Do it for the sake of understanding what Zarkon would say, react?

He wanted to know how far the man would go. 

But his father… his father was pissed at him. Livid. Red faced and angry like Lance had never seen before. His white hair was messy, from all the pulling he had done to it, his lips set into a harsh line with wrinkles of stress marring his face. 

He understood though. 

Lance took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“I am not talking to you like a son right now. I’m speaking as your General, the one led the Altean army into numerous battles against the Galarns.”

His father broke his angry rant as he stared at his son, about to say something but Lance only bowed his head. “I have seen what they’ve done to their women, to their children. To our people. ’ _ What would Zarkon have done? _ ’ I would think to myself. What would he had done if he saw what was happening?” He paused. “Or, was he the one who didn’t care, or hell, asked them to?”

“Why would he-” Alfor started, tone still on edge. 

“To destroy, King Alfor. To weaken his men, to weaken their women. To make them subservient to him.” Lance looked up at his father, who looked troubled. “I need to know so he wouldn’t ask you to do the same.”

Alfor’s eyes went wide, and he looked horrified at Lance. “What are you saying?!”

“That you would let it happen, because you want peace.” 

Silence. 

Alfor looked at his only son, horror etched onto his face. The King, so fearless and feared, was left to ponder his son's words. They were spoken clearly, spoken with grace. Lance watched as his father’s face fell. 

“Father,” he said, standing tall. “I know what you’re saying is just out of worry, but you need to understand that I’m not stupid. I’ve seen it, just like you, so please don’t talk down at me.” 

Alfor stared at him. “Lance. Lance, I-” he stopped himself. “You’re right. But so am I.” 

He nodded. Alfor let out a heavy sigh as he turned around. “Good. Talk to me instead of announcing it first, Lance.” 

He left without another word, his powerful Father walking away with his features exhausted and his shoulders slumped. Leaving so abruptly, obviously Lance’s words had a hard effect on him.

He looked so tired, so weak. And Lance was left behind as his father stepped into the room leading to the sitting area, not saying a thing. 

Lance stood there for a while as he hung his head back. Of course he knew what he did was risky- obviously it could have gone way worse. But in his line of Lance-ideas, he thought it was a good one. See how the man reacted, see what the man would do tomorrow. 

And, god, his father was right. He always was. The man was the King for centuries, of course he was smart about things. Lance felt like laughing at himself though- he was stupid as shit for letting his dumbass mouth say that. 

“Everything alright, Prince Allance?” 

Lance whipped his head around to see a person, a woman, standing there with her eyes filled with worry and a glint hidden in the light. He smiled at her. 

“I’m alright, thank you, Lady..?”

She returned his smile, though smaller and edged with something he couldn’t place. She had on a simple shirt and pants, and was quite obviously not of Okliri descent. She had light pink skin, different then his own dark brown, with large gleaming eyes the colour of liquid midday sky. She was pretty, and she appeared his age. 

“It’s Ezor, your highness,” she said, with her voice coy as she started to bow. 

He was quick to brush her off. “Ah, no need for that. But thanks, Lady Ezor.” 

She opened her mouth to say more but Allura’s voice called out to him from her room, the one connected to the hallway. Lance said he’d be there soon, already turning away from the woman. 

“See you sometime, Lady Ezor.” 

It wasn’t until later that night, after talking some more with his father and sister, that he realised that Alfor had ordered nobody to enter the hallway while they spoke. 

He didn’t sleep well that night.

***

_ They floated through the waves once more, no different than the previous years, and it seemed like home. Lance craned his head back, where it laid on the shadow’s lap, as thin fingers worked through the strands.  _

_ “Are you alright?” He asked, murmuring in the dark starlight.  _

_ The man hummed a response. “Better now.”  _

_ Lance, despite himself, smiled. They sat there, two sides of the light, cradled close like the yin and and the yang. The shadow of a man who’s fight was present in shapeless eyes hovering over the essence of the brightest days.  _

_ It was warm, it was soothing, and Lance could hear the song softly sung from his soulmate’s chest. Though he didn’t dare ask about it, he relished in the slight trust shown to him.  _

_ He closed his eyes, and fell into deep sleep with careful hands in his hair and a warmth settling in his chest.  _

_ The humming continued even as he dreamed.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second Chapter :)
> 
> If there's anything wrong with like, typos or wording, could you let me know? I kinda get blind-sighted by that sort of thing.   
> Also- how is the characterisation thus far? Bad? Awful? Try hard? Let me know lmao.


	3. Taunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> World Building bois

Soulmates were viewed differently in every culture. 

Some see it as a blessing, a hope that there is a plan laid out with even stone. A person made for you- it’s a dream. Others, though, saw it as a burden. 

Altea was one of those places. 

Lance sighed deep in his chest as he looked out his balcony. It’s been a week since they’ve been here and it felt like nothing was accomplished. Not from the lack of trying on Allura’s end, the girl was trying her hardest, but Zarkon was a motherfucker who refused any meeting without Lance. 

But, since the conversation exposing Lotor, he hadn’t been allowed to speak at the meetings. Which, Lance one hundred percent understood. He was a liability. 

Taking a sip of his tea, he relished in the warmth that spread through his bones. It was comforting, and it was soothing. It was the middle of the night, and no other soul was roaming through the courtyard. 

_ Was my soulmate hurt by them, too? _

Wasn’t the first time he thought about his soulmate, but- but he was taught never to. Back home, he was raised under the explanation that loyalty is the biggest thing an Altean could have. But, when that loyalty is forced upon you, the choice is taken away. 

He frowned into his cup. 

Though Altea was a modest country, there was a deeper reason behind it. To hide their markings- the Altean tattoos, and their soulmarks. 

The soulmarks were in a kind of… bad place in Altean standards. Kind of drove home how much less of a choice it is. They were wrapped around their ankles and wrists, extending to their fingers in small details and crept up their forearm. Same with their feet and shins. 

Wearing gloves was a nuisance, as was covering up head to toe, but Lance respected where he came from. Even if covering them up had him not feeling all to right- it covered the small flowers woven with small gems the shade of a flaming star. 

So with Altean modesty a thing, no other person has seen what their tattoos looked like. Which… he felt something sick slide in his veins. It meant that a lot of assholes wanted to see what they looked like. 

It was worse than skinning an Altean alive, their tattoos were their Pride, and showing them off? A crime worse than death. 

Lance felt uncomfortable as he thought about exposing his tattoos, even though he showed the smallest bit to Keith and Shiro. It hadn’t been too big of a deal, not really. His bathrobe was long enough and his body was kinda hidden in the dim light. 

His hand slowly moved up to his throat, which was exposed now that he was alone, but a reminder that the two had seen them. And his wrists. And his ankles. He felt ashamed. 

Was he a whore now? Now that he showed the slightest bit?

He moodily sipped his tea as he pondered the evening away.

***

Haunting shadows fell into the silent space. 

Eyes the shade of glazed violence stared into moons ravishing the midnight sea. It was cruel, the way the two colours met. It was beautiful, as it was dark. Stagnant air bled like their foes between them- neither willing to let it go. 

The three of them were sitting in the gazebo just off of the King’s lake, a fancy, simple thing fit for an unfit leader. The table was like a star’s birth between them- large and vast, but oh so very close. 

“Are you sure it’s safe to talk here?” 

Keith, who sat in his chair with his arms crossed, only nodded. He didn’t say anything else as his gaze never lightened up. 

And Lance, well, he returned that fire with his own blazing storm. 

Even though they were… cohorts in a plan that could save millions, Lance was a prideful being. A creature who never bowed its head or tilted the neck to be exposed; he was a monster of the sea. A monster who never let the other man out of his sight. 

Shiro sat to the side of the both of them, back to the castle, and only looked at them both with eyes of a man done with their shit. The two men ignored him. 

“We scoped it out for a while, Lance,” Shiro spoke up. 

“No one saw you?” 

“Obviously not,” Keith said, an edge to his voice. 

Lance narrowed his eyes and began to open his mouth, when Shiro let out a quick sigh through his nose. Twin eyes of yin and yang slid their gazes to him, their bodies angled to strangle the other. Shiro only shook his head. 

“If this is going to happen,” Shiro began. “We are going to have to at least  _ try  _ to make this work. Peacefully.” 

The breeze was gentle as it spread through their clothes, hair being ruffled and skin being caressed. Lance swallowed. 

“I was just making sure, Shiro.” He tightened his lips and sat straighter in his chair, awkward in the midst of the two Galran men. That, he inwardly snorted, at least hadn’t left him. 

Keith only turned his head, refusing to look at him. “Just get on with it.” 

Shiro let out the eighth sigh that morning and Lance bit back a chuckle. 

It was three days until the do-over meeting and everyone was tense. So tense, that Allura had already threatened to chop his little John off and feed it to him uncooked and seasoned with paprika. 

It was a very scary dinner. 

But it had even affected his father, who was pacing every chance he got. Coran, the wonderful man, had tried his best in calming down his agitated family members. Only to get a shoe thrown at him and a cup smashed. 

Shiro had tracked him down while in the shooting range the day before, silent as a ninja, and asking him to meet him in the King’s gazebo. Lance was still new to this whole thing, so nobody could blame him when he accidently shot Shiro’s cloak to the floor in his surprise. 

So here he was, a day before the fate of millions was decided, and his heart was in his throat. 

“Alright,” Shiro finally complied. “We can’t really discuss anything here. So, if Plan A is out, we need to have a way to communicate with each other.” 

One thing Lance neglected to mention- despite Shiro being a human-creature, he was also the Galra’s prime competitor. The Champion. Undefeated, unrivalled, killed first and wept efter; he was deadly, but he was compationt. 

So why was he a Leatudent for the very people who enslaved him? 

_ Fear, pain, trauma, guilt- he was beaten into submission.  _

But, as Lance looked at Shiro explaining his second plan, he knew that the man before him was stronger then strength itself. 

Why else would he be opposing the Emperor? 

He leaned back in the chair, his gloved hands holding his tea with care. The warmth bled through the threads like euphoria and it helped Lance clear his head. 

“Will anybody else know I’m helping you?”

Lance spoke before he could properly think about it and felt a sudden flush heat up his face. Of course, like the boss bitch he was, he hid it with his cup. Watching the other two from above the blue-stained rim, he saw them look at eachother. 

“Well-” 

“Not officially,” Keith interrupted. His eyes bled like flames as he rubbed his index finger and thumb together, almost like a nervous habit. His lips were thinned into a harsh line. 

Lance though, has done this shit before. Not to this scale, but. Well. Y’ know. So he hastily took a sip and brought the cup down, playing with the handle. “So, what’s my codename then, the one you told them?”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. 

Lance shrugged in response. “As long as it’s something cool, like- Sharpshooter, Blue or,” he suddenly adopted a sleazy smirk, “Tailor, for how I thread the-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Keith snarked, scowling. 

“You didn’t even know what I was going to say!” 

“You get this stupid look on your face right before you say something-” Keith cut himself off and coughed. Narrowing his eyes at nothing, he glowered at the table, who glared right on back with the morning sun. “Whatever. You don’t need to know.” 

Lance bristled. “Oh yeah? Well Mullet-” 

“Both of you, shut it!” 

The two men shrunk in on themselves and were back to feeling like two chastised boys. Shiro was glaring at them, vivid poison dripping in dark brown eyes. They were in slits, dangerous as he spoke in his calm, but cool voice. 

“We don’t have much time, especially not to argue, alright? Lance, we already set the phone in your room, and-” He cut himself off, then, mulling something over, he said slowly, “Well, I’m sure you know how to keep things discreet.” 

Still in a whiplash, Lance simply nodded. A phone, huh? He would have to get Hunk to look at it to make sure it was safe. He smiled a bit; the man was a blessed cook, but a beast with anything involving engineering. He was a two-edged sword. 

“Just to be clear though, nobody in your circle knows I’m in on this, right?” 

Keith and Shiro both nodded, expressions grim. “Nobody. We’ll make sure of it,” Shiro reinforced, now standing. 

His shadow blanketed them as he gave them both an encouraging smile. Simple lighting had his eyes aflame with a fight, with courage and pride. He was a powerful, tall man who Lance could tell right away was the right type to fight in this war against Zarkon. 

Maybe he should stop doubting them. 

So, he took in a deep breath and smiled at them. Slow, unsteady, but offering something for that hope fluttering in his chest. 

Feeling like their short meeting was done, Lance shifted so he was about to stand, like Shiro was. But Keith abruptly cleared his throat, gruff, and his eyes didn’t meet either of theirs. Lance raised an eyebrow as Shiro asked him what’s wrong. 

His gaze didn’t reach theirs. “There’s something else going on.” 

“What is?” Shiro blinked, confusion melting his features. 

Lance looked between the two, that hope souring as Keith’s mouth thinned even further. Something unsteady and sick curled in his gut as darkness shadowed the other man's face. 

“There is a group, the  _ Furta’s _ ,” Keith spat like poison. Lowly, he continued. “I got information about them last night. Their planning a genocide on all opposing Galrans of the Empire.” 

Lance swallowed thickly as he nervously tapped his thigh. “A genocide?” 

He nodded. “We don’t know when, but they’re getting a lot more extreme as the resistance grows.” 

Shiro made an audible sound of displeasure, and from the corner of Lance’s downturned attention, he saw the man’s fist balled into a tight curl. His brow was furrowed as he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Keith’s jaw clenched. “I couldn’t.”

Sunlight glinted off his tea cup with wondrous flare, hues deep in the sea made a worthy distraction as the two enemy men had a silent conversation with their eyes riddled with violent vengeance. Lance’s own chest threatened to cave as his breath caught in his throat. 

Genocide.  _ Genocide.  _ Why was the term so horrific when Lance has seen it first hand? Had committed it himself, on some occasions? He felt bitterness eat his skin and lungs as he took a deep, concentrating breath. 

What did this mean?

He voiced it, seemingly, and he gulped slightly when their eyes twisted to him. Keith looked at him wordlessly, a tick in his brows. 

“It means we’re screwed- they’re planning on blaming the attack on the Alteans,” he said after a few moments of silence. 

Shiro’s dark eyes held remorse, and a hand went up to grip his greying hair. “From what I know, the Furta’s see Zarkon like a god. Attacks done in favor of him- they would do anything for that-” Shiro cut himself off with a wince. 

Lance bit his tongue in the effort to not let his power, his rage, flow like a raging storm. Nails dug into his thigh and his skin felt tight as Shiro met his gaze, understanding flickering like a motherfucker. 

Of course, the Altean ignored it. 

“Could we stop it?” He asked, tasting blood on his tongue. He swallowed it. 

Keith did that tick with his fingers again, which were still wrapped around his crossed arms. “We’d have to.”

Shiro nodded. “If it happens-”

“We’re fucked.” 

Lance nodded, barely there as something soft and annoying melted in his ears as his clothes became suffocating. Sudden flare of rage had his nerves begging him to release, but he didn’t. 

Even if the peace talks went through, this group could fuck it all up. Fuck up all the harships that were done to get to this point- screw it into the ground with no mercy. To blame the death of Resistance-Galrans, even if they were working against Zarkon, on Alteans, it would start up a whole other war. 

And Lance didn’t think his country could stand for another one. 

So did he…

Did he have to go through the plan Keith and Shiro told him about? 

He shivered as he shook his fingers underneath the table. “Your men, in the Furta group, do they have any more information?” 

Shiro’s gaze was softened by something in his tone, but Lance only avoided it. Like the hoe he was, his lips sank in his teeth as he shook his limbs. 

Keith spoke up. “That’s all they told me. There’s no actual date set yet.” 

“And you know this for sure?” 

Glaring eyes stained his own. “They’re risking their lives,  _ Lance. _ It’s all they told me.” 

Lance returned Keith’s ire with his gaze set annoyed. Before he could say anything else though, Shiro’s voice anchored them both to a heavy stone. 

“Alright, alright. Calm down,” Shiro sighed. “We’re not sure, Lance. But with your device, we’ll be able to let you know as soon as possible.” 

Mulling it over, Lance nodded after a few moments. Ice freezing his sudden rage, he smoothed like gentle water in seconds as his eyes fell on sincere one’s in the shape of Shiro’s gaze, soft with reassuring brownstone. 

“Are you bipolar or something?” 

Then the anger was back again as he scowled at Keith. 

Shiro only sighed again as he glared gently at Keith. “Keith,” there was a soft warning in his voice that had Lance feeling smug as shit. 

Keith didn’t look chastised though, but Lance’s eyes had wondered to the sun that was now in a new position. Blinking, he held up his hand and measured with his thumb. 

_ Shit.  _

He was late for the meeting with his father. 

Letting out a harsh sigh, he stood up in his chair and smoothed down his clothes. Their eyes were on him as he did so, questioning. “I got a meeting to go to.” 

Shiro let out a hum of understanding as he stood as well. “We’ll talk to you as soon as we get more information.” 

The two men faced each other as Lance gave him a small smile, viens feeling like rotting string as he pushed his chair in. “Sure. See ya later, man.” 

He left them behind with a nasty glimmer of weak hope racing through his chest, voice threatening to escape him without his consent. He wanted to scream from the rooftops, to flee through the forest’s flora, to dive deep into the oceans depths. 

Because of this, this was going to change everything. 

_ If,  _ Lance’s snarky head-voice started,  _ they tell us what they’re hiding. We’re not stupid- something’s going on.  _

He shook it off though. Of course he’d be weary, however, he wasn’t going to pass this up. Whatever was going on was a whole lot more trustworthy than Zarkon. No offence against Allura though- he just had a ton more faith in a revolution. 

Sighing, he made his way through the courtyard with heavy bones. The smells of the Okilri passing him had his sensitive nose as he thought about the possible attack going to be blamed on his people. 

Seemed so far-fetched, since everybody knew that Alteans wouldn’t do that to someone supposedly helping them win the war. 

Actually, now that he was really thinking about it, it seemed kinda stupid. Unless… 

_ They were making the Alteans out to be someone far more barbaric?  _

Lance actually had no idea, and he felt frustrated as he snagged a pastry off of some merchants cart, tossing a few coins as he did. Biting into the soft, delicious bread, he almost let out a groan of happiness as the berry in the middle melted on his tongue like firefly dust. 

Now, mood brightened just a bit, he let his eyes roam to the place his father had wanted to meet him in. His knee-high boots clacked against the cobblestone and the music of the courtyard had his mind dancing in rhythm. 

Gods he loved to dance. 

It made him smile into his delicious pastry as he thought about meeting the beat of the drums being played, or the jingle of a tambourine being hit. A woman’s voice sang softly against it like a haunting painting, stokes of rhythmic hollars in her throat had Lance’s limbs loosening up just a tad. 

As soon as he was back home, his ass was going straight to the market square to dance up a storm. 

With that distracting thought, he finally made it to the  _ “Building embraced with ivy, right out of that one book Allura gave to you in preparation for this meeting”.  _ His father’s voice was just as powerful in his head as in real life. 

Made him scowl in distaste as he opened the doors, paying no mind to the woman lingering at the shaded bench next to it. 

***

_ He watched him through eyes of desire.  _

_ Darkened shadows caressed him as he laid there, silently, in the walls. Soft insulation tickled his exposed hands and face, itching, but the man only grinned horrifically.  _

_ It was evil, rotten, and wicked. Twisted in the hellish depths of ice-cold rivers, the flame licked his lips teasingly as the light in his eye started to strip. It was taunting, how slim and long fingers traced over untouched skin, tasting something the man had only thought about in dreams so vivid he couldn’t even start to begin.  _

_ Crawling on his hands and knees was making his breath quicker- his thoughts running rampant with aching urges that he bit his lip with sharp teeth, cursing the blessing of his blood crashing down his thirsty, thirsty throat.  _

_ How could his Angel’s form be so magnificent? So pure? So dirty? So completely untarnished by another’s hands- only the cruel kiss of blades and bullet scars draped over dark tan skin.  _

_ His fingers twitched as Angel’s shirt was painstakingly unbuttoned, eyes so wide he feared they’d roll to the other man’s feet, a part- the erotic part- hoped that Angel would scope them up, taste them with his talented tongue, roll it in-between teeth made for biting.  _

_ The soft looking shirt slid off of broad shoulders, revealing iridescent blue markings, running delicately on gentle skin. The threads were blessed by the heavens, weren’t they? So pure, so wonderful, they got to lick the flesh that was his.  _

_ The man in the wall craved with his entire being. Oh how he wanted. Wanted. Wanted. Wanted. It was so much to bear alone, too much of his form being overtaken by such devilish urges.  _

_ When could he- _

_ He stifled a sound as Angel began to undo his pants.  _

_ He felt pain, pain like no other. His breath was hot in his ears, panting like a dog, the wall was stifling, and he was all too aware of how tight his body had wound up. He craved.  _

_ Craved the flesh of his hip in between his teeth, tongue sliding so slowly he would have moved mountains in time he came to strong thighs marred with scars so light it looked like lightning. How he wanted to bruise them. Make them bleed. Become so covered in vivid crimson, he would have to swallow it all before- _

_ Well, before he caught his prey.  _

_ How he yearned for the sounds. For the sighs. For the moans. For the screams.  _

_ He wanted arched backs, shaking thighs, curled toes, bitten neck. He wanted to ruin. To destroy. Oh, how he needed it.  _

_ Angel, who’s eyes were glimmering like the sea he was rumoured to be, looked towards the mirror. Darkened room with lights so low, it was a wonder why he wouldn’t have stuck out. His markings were glistening blue, bright deep sea, and screaming at him to trail his tongue, slick with saliva, up and down the pretty carvings.  _

_ But the man would have to wait.  _

_ The anticipation was worth it in the end, after all. The treat would only be sweeter, he would say to himself as he licked the last of the blood of his lips.  _

_ He was so close already- _

_ What was a few more months?  _

  
***  
  
  


Lance cocked a hip as he pouted at Allura. 

She gave him a no-nonsense look as she flipped through the pages at her desk, the light breeze gentle on their skin and on the see-through pale yellow curtains. The smell of free flowers that crept up the building with the ivy making its way to Lance’s senses. 

Warm air pressed against his skin as Allura’s eyes read over each and every word. 

Since his sister was going to be the Queen of their country when she reaches her one-hundredth birthday, which was actually in a few months, she had the amazing duty of reading all the complaints made by their people. 

Their country took pride in listening to what everyone had to say.

But it was still annoying when Allura refused to tell him what the hell was going on. 

“Can’t you just give me a hint? A little riddle or some shit? Please ‘Lura?” 

He was begging at this point, but come on. He’s had decades of pleas under his belt! He at least could understand how the people he protected were feeling. Though, as the thought crashed through his mind, an unwanted answer prompted him. 

_ What if they don’t like what’s happening?  _

Of course they didn’t. The protests as they were leaving were more than enough to drive home that point. 

Lance let out a forlorn sigh as Allura ignored him, and he retreated to the comfy-ass chair beside the window- next to Allura on the opposite side of her desk. He leaned back so his legs were draped over the side of the chair, his neck over the other armrest. 

He stared at the ceiling. 

The small little carvings of simple design had his eyes tracing every mark, every line. His mind drifted as a haze brought him to a restless sort of feeling. Nerves were eating at him for tomorrow, sliding and slithering up and down his body. 

What would happen? Would the war… end? 

The thought was so foreign to him, it made him pause. He’d been fighting in this war ever since the first stroke of flame was set to their outer side villages, the ones closest to the sea between the Galran Empire and Altea. 

It came from nowhere and nobody was prepared. 

Lance swallowed thickly as that night came back unwanted, his insides shrinking and rattling with despair as his veins begged for release. The anger, age old, was something so un-parralled that he took a deep breath. 

So deep that it caught Allura’s attention. “Lance? What’s wrong?” 

He waved her off though. “Ah, nothing. Just thinking too hard.” 

Silence for a bit, and when Lance didn’t hear any more sound from her, he bent his head to look at her. Slanted blue eyes the same as his met his own and he sent her a questioning look. 

She darted her attention down to the papers, then back to him, and sighed. “Do you really want to know?” 

Lance blinked. “Uh, yeah?” 

Pursing her lips, she held up two pieces. Lance squinted at them, silently cursing the hazy sun that hit the small letters, and furrowed his brows. That wasn’t Altean. 

“I thought those were from the Alteans?” 

Allura didn’t meet his gaze. “They are.”

“Allura,” Lance said, slowly rising in his chair. “What do you mean? That isn’t in Altean.” 

“It’s a different dialect, Lance. We asked them to-” She cut herself off. “Only Father and I know how to read it.” 

Age old feelings rised up again, and Lance narrowed his eyes at nothing in particular. It wasn’t like he was angry, he knew the risks in place, but- he couldn’t help but feel left out. Was he not important enough too? 

Stomping it down, he asked her, “So what do they say?” He hoped his voice sounded normal. 

But from her slumped shoulders, he knew she heard what he felt. “Lance, I-” 

“Allura.” 

Softly closing her mouth, she nodded. Long spirals of white hair fell around her shoulders as she did, fine jewellery that laid braided within them clanging together in wonderful harmony. It reminded Lance of simple days by the ocean and the small of sea water with the sun shining at his back and sand between his toes. 

She looked hesitant. “I’m only telling you this because I trust you, alright? Please don’t act stupid.” 

He tried for a humorous grin but only managed to give a small smile. “I won’t.” 

“Suspected Galrans are attempting to seek aid from.” she paused as her eyes roamed the page, “the Koiyi family.” 

“Suspected?” 

“All typical Galran characteristics were covered with either a mask or a cloak” 

Hiding their sharp canines, skin that was covered in thick and tamed purple fur, ears too big for their heads- Lance had seen it before. Galran troops had attempted the same thing before, disguising themselves in his dead mens’ cloaks and seeking to destroy whatever camp they stumbled across. 

It made Lance’s heart shrink in ice. “How many?” 

Allura’s eyes held an emotion Lance couldn’t place. “One adult and a child.” 

“Are they seeking asylum?” 

“It seems so.” 

The Koiyi family lived behind the mountains on the east side of Altea, furthest from the Galran Empire, and took pride in their culture. They were strict with their traditions and sometimes helped the Royal Family with preparations with any diplomat they were housing. 

Personally, Lance thought that all the Koiyi’s were bitches with a massive stick up their ass, but they were well known for their practices. Kinda like Lords, though the title isn’t given all that easily in Altea. 

“Why would they go to  _ them _ ?” Lance couldn’t help the distaste in his words.

Allura hid her gaze from him as she looked out the window. “It’s getting worse in the Empire, Lance. It’s not safe there, hasn’t been for a while. The Koiyi’s are the furthest from them, so I suppose it would make sense.” 

Lance took a difficult breath. “So there are Galrans in our country right now?” 

Allura didn’t look at him. Didn’t speak, or respond, but Lance knew the answer. He fought with himself, hounded his emotions that raised like a sudden storm, and tried to bury them so he could go crazy later at the local pond. 

“Why?” Was his question, quiet with seething anger beneath it.

“Lance, they were in need of help. Our enemy is not the smaller people; it’s the ones who are involved in the war. Not them.” 

He bit his tongue to keep his words at bay. “So all that I’ve been doing- was that for nothing?” 

She looked taken aback as she turned her head to him quickly, surprise on her features as her brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You and Father have been letting them into our country without telling me! I’m the one-” He took a sharp breath. “I’ve been murdering their people. Why would they come here?” 

She eyed him, a level of unease in her eyes. “We’re not sure. But Lance-”

He shook his head. “How many?” 

“What?” 

“How many are in our country?” 

“Around two hundred documented cases,” she told him, keeping her voice low in case the opened window let her words roam free through the wind. 

Lance smoothed a hand down the half of his face. Worry for both his family and Altea took root as he mulled over what she said. Why wasn’t she more worried? More hesitant? They could be spies, people sent to murder their people!

He felt something like betrayal coil in his gut. Was this why they didn’t tell him? 

“And undocumented?” 

“We’re guessing around four hundred.” 

“Shit,” he hissed. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I did,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Just now.”

Glaring at her, he leaned all the way back in his chair and swiped the mug of steaming tea on Allura’s desk and took a huge gulp of it. Lukewarm warmth slid down his throat and coiled in his stomach, his insides far colder than normal. He cradled it in his hand as he worried about his bottom lip. 

“You understand why… why I don’t like this, right?” He tried, not really in the mood for another familial argument. 

She nodded. “I know. Father and I aren’t over the moon for it either, but we can’t just ignore them, Lance.” 

“Why not send them to another country? Like, I dunno, this one?” 

“You and I both know that nobody cares for the Galra.”

Which made sense. An entire country built upon slaverly and massacring other small countries? Nobody wanted to be a part of that. But, in doing so, they ignored the problem. Ignored the war already happening. 

Ignored the pleas from both the Alteans and the Glaran refugees. 

“Are they safe?” 

Allura side-eyed him. “They are. For now, at least. We don’t think Zarkon is aware, given that they were exiled to the no-man's land.” 

_ How cruel. To dress them as Galran soldiers and shove them on the field- _

“Okay.”

“Okay?” 

He nodded, a small smile on his face. “Yeah. I’m not, like, totally an asshole, ‘Lura. They had nothing to do with this war.” 

Allura, for her part, only softened her eyes from their hardened glaze. “I’m happy. Father and I supposed… that you would harbor ill feelings for  _ all _ Galra.”

He shrugged. “Every country has their own issues, I would be a dick-head not to see how Zarkon is treating his own people.” 

Relaxing, the tension in her shoulders dripping away, Allura stole her cup back and took a huge gulp. Lance watched, amused, as she smacked her lips together. 

“You good?” 

Nodding, she placed the cup back on the desk. “I’m sorry for hiding it from you, Lance.” 

Waving her off, he smiled at her. “Nah. I get it. Would be a hassle to sit me down and teach me anyway.” 

Returning his smile with one of her own, she settled back in her chair to continue to read through all the reports, Lance’s smile still playing on his lips. And while her eyes were glued to the cursive letters, he let it fall away. 

How much more was hidden from him? 

He sat on these questions well into the night, his mind playing  _ that day _ on repeat. 

Only this time, he was Galran instead of Altean. 

***

_ “Do you see that?”  _

_ Lance hummed in acknowledgement. “I do.”  _

_ “I painted it, yesterday.”  _

_ Sea eyes left the shadows of his soulmate to look at the sky forming all around them. He blinked back stars as the crimson horizon met the ocean they drifted upon. Streaks of flame, yellows and oranges, weak with a single brush of blue.  _

_ Lance pushed aside his feelings. “Did you? What does it mean?” _

_ The other only shrugged. “Art doesn’t have to have meaning.” _

_ “It doesn’t?” _

_ “Not to me, no.” _

_ “Why?” _

_ His soulmate stoked the side of his face lovingly, from earlobe to jaw. “Why not? Feelings don’t have to have meanings, either.”  _

_ Despite himself, Lance snorted. “That sounds awfully poetic.” _

_ A shadow of a grin. “Well, someone important told me.”  _

_ Lance hummed again, softly, as he relished in the feeling of the ghost of a hand on his face. It was so gentle, so careful, he melted into a puddle of his own flesh. He felt just so- so protected. So… wanted.  _

_ It was easy to believe that tomorrow wasn’t coming, here in this bubble of harsh and soothing colours, it was bliss.  _

_ “You care for them.”  _

_ “I do.”  _

_ “But you can’t…”  _

_ “No. I can’t tell you about them,” his soulmate said, not unkindly, but assertive.  _

_ Lance only smiled.  _

_ “It’s alright.  _

_ Tell me more about your painting?”  _

***

  
  


Lance bit his nail with his teeth, focusing on Allura with a worried frown. 

They were in her room, with Allura facing the mirror with her own level of distaste levelling her features, and Lance was plopped on her sofa. It was soft like molten water, embracing him even though his body was upright. 

She met her eyes in the mirror. 

“You hate it.” 

Lance didn’t deny it. “Everything’s showing,” he told her, stilted. 

And it was. When Lance woke up that morning, it was to the scream from his sister, her screech of hatred still bled in his ears like a nasty tattoo. But, being the wonderful baby brother he was, he had ran to her room in a crazed matter. 

What he saw had his little Altean heart break open with offence. 

There, in the middle of Allura’s bed, was a gown meant to be worn for the meeting going on that evening, the do-over one, and it was  _ not  _ something any self-respecting Altean would wear. It was in-modest, short straps and open cuts allowed for lecherous eyes to roam their sacred markings. 

It made Lance’s gut roll. 

Allura’s scream was weird in the setting, but Lance understood. It was so ingrained in their culture, that it really was an awful offence to even think about their marking showing. Lance felt his own flare up with pride as he sat there, staring at Allura. 

After hours of ‘talking’ about it, read; arguing in panic, with Lance telling her to burn it in a fire, her only argument was to at least try it on. 

He had looked at her in disbelief. Even his own sister wouldn’t be that desperate to end this war? To go as far as wear something like… that? 

“It is, isn’t it,” her voice was sad, her hands balled as she tried to work a smile in the mirror. 

Soft blues from the early morning only served to highlight his sister’s markings, the light pink melting into an awfully-pretty lake of unease. Swirls of their ancestors met Lance’s eyes as he felt his skin rot into a puddle the more his gaze fought for hers. 

Who even left the stupid dress on her bed? It made him just so angry- so, so fucking angry that he tried to call for the calm. 

But it was hard. His sister was struggling between pride of her people and the desperate want for peace. 

“You don’t have to…” Lance trailed off, bitter and bruised. 

“To wear it? Lance, I could only assume the Galran party offered it, I-” She swallowed. “I have to.” 

Spitting out his nail, he scowled. “If they wanted peace, they would know our customs, ‘Lura. Why would they, anyway?” 

But deep down, he knew. Knew that it was a test of stupid faith. Zarkon was known widely for his crimes, yes, but also for his crimes against traditions of others. At times, when he enslaved a race, he would strip them of their beliefs and train them to follow the Galran faith. 

It made the seas scream for him as his lips pulled back into a wrathful cry of peace. 

Disgust pooled into his limbs as he stood abruptly. 

Stalking over to Allura, he stood behind her. “Allura. This a challenge to us, please- please don’t bend to their every whim.” 

Water shined in her eyes, eyes of feline grace glaring at a spot in her reflection, Lance gently rested his hands on her now bare shoulders. Leaning in, he solemnly whispered, “They can’t control us. Not again.” 

Her shoulders shook from under his hands, and he released his hold slowly, revealing a sheet he stole from her desk as he walked over. It was covering her form once again, and her trembling hands grasped the edges to pull it tighter around herself. 

“Lance, if I don’t, that could set us back so far-” 

“Then let it!” He ignored the crack in his throat. “Let it. Show them that this is an alliance, a treaty between two respecting countries. Showing up in this would only prove to Zarkon, or whoever gave this to you, that Altea would not surrender of beliefs!” 

Allura finally met his eyes as she let out a small gasp. “Lance…” 

“We can’t let them think we will give up our traditions, Allura. We can’t or else they’ll ruin it even more so.” 

He felt emotion build up as the beginning of the sunrise casted pretty shadows across the seating area of her room, gentle as the morning wind bit at the sheer curtains. Blowing out a harsh breath, Lance swallowed. 

“I’m sorry, you can wear what you-” 

She held up a hand, stopping him. 

“I know, Lance. I wear our clothes with pride, you know this since you do the same. I choose what I’d like.” She hugged herself tighter. “But this is laughable. Who do they think they are?” 

Lance peered at the note thrown in her trash bin, it’s lettering clear in what was written. The words told had his throat closing in on itself. There was no misunderstanding that this dress was meant to be worn for the evening meeting, and his brows furrowed as his sister’s words met his slowness. 

People could wear what they desired, he knew this. Hell, he could walk around in nothing but loose pants and vest and not care too much. But he wanted to dress in traditional Altean wear- it was his pride for his people. The desire to keep his beliefs alive. 

Allura understood. She always did, but her own desire for peace was overwhelming. 

“Assholes. That’s what,” he answered her question with a mutter. 

She chuckled softly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Thank you, Lance. I’m sorry for yelling, I just was… alarmed.” 

Backing up a bit, Lance pursed his lips. “Yeah. That is weird. Hafta talk to Father about that one.” How _did_ someone get in her room? No one except for the Altean party was allowed. 

_ Wait a second. How the shit did Keith and Shiro get in, then?  _

He shook it off when Allura whacked his shoulder. Pouting, he rubbed at it as she smirked. “I will. Now, stop staring into space and help me pick out an outfit.” 

“Ooo, really?” He couldn’t help the sudden excitement in his voice as he smiled widely. His sister knew her shit when it came to fashion, and oftentimes, she called him meanie names about his lack of knowledge in it. 

Blame it on his soldier-brain. 

She huffed a laugh as she went to her wardrobe. “Yes, really.” 

Joining her, he failed to notice the set of eyes watching them from the cracked window, sparking in some unknown emotion as the two siblings went about. 

Cruel fate was decided that morning, it would seem. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it isn't to information-y. Like, I want this story to have emotional backup in it too, so please let me know if I'm doing an alright job about it lol. 
> 
> Also- culture is a big thing in this since something... big happens with it later on. 
> 
> ___  
> And if you didn't know, since no major media is reporting on it, something really shitty is happening in China at the moment. China, the worst place ever and can go fuck itself, is currently holding Uighur Muslims in what is basically concentration camps. They're raping the women, abusing the children and men, and stripping them of their beliefs and traditions. This is literally the fucking holocaust 2.0. It's awful, and as I have no other place to talk about it, so I have to here. 
> 
> There needs to be more people aware of this as China is actively trying to detain information about it.


End file.
